Someone in the World
by Mittens17
Summary: What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood. Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle.
1. Nobody's Home

_**Someone in the World**_

**Summary:** What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood. _Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings:** Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature _(when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer:** This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

_A young woman lay in her bed, sleeping in her quiet, dimly lit room, graduation cap and robe thrown on the floor, yearbook sprawled open on the bed at her feet. Her chest slowly rose with even breaths, and her eyelids fluttered as the sounds from below began to reach her still sleeping ears._

_"Ugghhh" She groans, as She drowsily pushes her hair away from her face and rubs her eyes, instantly regretting it as the black eyeliner smears itself on her hands. She shrugs and stretches, and with her mouth open in a yawn She stills as She realizes exactly what had awaken her__._

_"Don't do-Hiccup-this, NOOOO, I said I'd- Hiccup-have the money by th'end of th'week!"_

_"Listen, bitch. It IS the end of the week, so what are you gonna do now, huh?"_

_"Mebbe I can pay you-Hiccup-sm'other way, hehehehe__.__"_

_The loud snap of what could only be a hand meeting a face resonates up the stairs._

_"That kind of shit might work for some other fuckheads that you owe, but it ain't going to work in this case, mama. Cortez ain't playing around, you hear, you had your fun sporting, but now you've gotta pay up!"_

_"Aww, fuck, mom, not again" She says. Anger fills her, not fear, as She throws open her closet door to quickly throw on a hoodie to cover the simple black dress She had worn to her graduation. The black tulle netting underneath the short skirt was sorely out of shape from her nap, but She didn't seem to mind. She reaches up to the upper shelves in her closet and rummages around until She finds an old tin box, the kind butter cookies are sold in. She opens the tin and digs around and grabs what She's looking for._

_Taking one deep breath, She flings open her bedroom door and stomps down the stairs, her heart beating fast and hard in her chest as the sounds of furniture being slammed around, glass breaking, and her mother's drunken sobs reach her ears._

_She finds a tall and barrel chested Latino man in the living room, wildly searching through every book on the bookcase. As She walks towards him, She spots her mother cowering on the floor in front of the couch, face pressed into a couch cushion. As She gets closer, She sees that the man had apparently thought to look in the pictures frames, glass strewn everywhere on the floor. Her combat boots make short work of the glass, crunching with every step. The man turns at the sounds of her steps and his angry brown eyes zero in on her as he combs one hand through his greasy long hair._

_"What do you think you're doing, mamasita, it ain't a good idea for you to be down here. This here is between me and your mama, okay?" he says to her, voice low and steady in an attempt to sound reassuring but She can hear the threat behind his words._

_She throws her shoulders back and her chin goes up the tiniest bit._

_"Listen, GUY, this shit's been happening since before I was 10. Just tell me how much she owes you and get the fuck out of my house!"_

_The man holds his hands up, clearly taken aback, and then his face breaks out in a grin._

_"Whoa, whoa, mamasita, you gotta calm down, you don't wanna be saying something you'll regret. Besides, I don't think you get exactly how much candy your mama's been sporting. You really think a mamasita like you has the dollars for this?"_

_Frustrated, She kicks the already cracked leg on the coffee table, as the leg finally gives and the table crashes down at an odd angle, She moves even closer to the man._

_"I get it, you're a big guy, and I should be scared, but I really just want you to go, so why don't you let ME worry about how much money I do or don't have. Give me a number, we'll settle this, because she sure as shit isn't going to pay you one red cent.", She says as She gestures to her mother's trembling form._

_The man shrugs and gives her the amount. With an amused, yet intrigued, look on his face, he watches as the girl takes a roll of bills out of a pocket in her hoodie. She counts the bills quickly and stuffs what little remains back into her pocket. With an elastic band, She rolls up the payment and throws it to him. He catches it in that big hand of his._

_"Technically, you owe me 20 bucks, but I have a feeling you're not in the habit of giving change", She says dryly._

_The man laughs, a low rumble, "You've got that right, especially when it comes to late payments. Let's just call it Cortez's little gift, for being such a patient man with your mama." he winks as he makes his way out the backdoor._

_She lets out a breath She hadn't realized She was holding and crouches down near her mother. She yanks the cushion out of her mother's hands and throws it back on the couch. As She smoothes her mother's disheveled hair out of her face, She checks her face for any damage. Her mother's left cheek is already bruising and her lip is split, blood dribbling down to her chin._

_"Dammit, mom, look at you. You're such a fucking mess!" She says, as She uses her hoodie's sleeve to wipe her mother's tears._

_Suddenly, her mother starts to laugh, an empty, humorless laugh._

_"Oh, m'baby Harlan Grace, daddy's little girl. I can always count n'you, hmmm? That's righ'! B'cause you're sooooooo much better than me. You're gonna graduate one day, and you're gonna leave m'alone, yeeeep!" her mother's words slurring as she fruitlessly tries to get up from the floor._

_She pulls her mother up off the floor__,__ and with a lump in her throat She reminds her mother, for the millionth time this week, that today was her graduation day._

_"Actually, I already graduated. Today, mom. It was TODAY. You weren't there, I didn't even know where you were this morning when I woke up and left the house. I came back to find you drinking in the back yard. So, yeah, one day I will graduate. That day being TODAY!"_

_Her mother sways unsteadily and absent mindedly reaches down to scratch herself between the legs through her baggy sweatpants._

_"Tha'was today? Weeeeeeell, fuck me, hahaha. Congratulations, Gracie, let's go get y'daddy, mebbe I'll make a cake" she slurs, as she falls down onto the couch, her head falling back and her eyes closed._

_Desperately trying not to cry, She takes a few steps back, her hands balling up into fists._

_"Dad's dead, mom. He's been dead for the last 11 years..." She whispers, before running out of the living room and barging up the stairs to her room.  
_


	2. A Place to Call Home

_**Someone in the World**_

**Summary:** What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood. _Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings:** Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature _(when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer:** This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

Harlan tossed and turned all night, her legs now completely tangled in the sheets. A sudden knock on the door wakes her from her disturbed sleep and she bolts upright in the bed, long auburn hair a complete mess. As she furiously tries to release her legs from the grasp of the sheets, another knock hits her door.

"Bloody hell, finally", she mutters as she frees her legs and swings them over the side of the bed. She pulls on some sweatpants and a hoodie as a third knock hits the door, this time louder and harder. Harlan walks to the door quietly and peers through the peep-hole. She relaxes and quickly opens the door.

"Hey there, big guy! To what do I owe this wake-up call?" she grins up at the burly man at her door.

He scratches his chin through his thick beard and glances at his watch.

"Harley, you know it's past noon, right?"

She swears under her breath and steps back, pulling open the door to let him in.

"Ray, can you do me a solid and get me something to eat while I shower and change? I'm so sorry I slept in." she says as she walks towards the bathroom.

Ray takes a seat at the small kitchenette table, his big frame making everything else look even smaller.

"We gotta book it, kiddo. I'll grab you something on the way to the show. The hotel expected this room emptied by 10AM and I paid off the cleaning lady to skip it for now. I imagine she'll be wanting to get this room done and over with sometime soon."

Harlan leaned against the bathroom door and attempted to run a hand through her tangled hair.

"Shit, Ray, I'm sorry. I'll pay you back tonight, alright. I'll make sure to really get in there and snap some great action shots, people always pay extra for those."

The big guy shrugged and waved his hand away.

"Ah, forget about it. You know I've got your back. What happened anyway, you don't look so hot" he said, his voice laced with concern.

It always kind of amused Harlan when Ray got all worried and concerned; the guy looked like your typical motorcycle gang member and yet he was such a teddy bear with her. She offered him a small smile.

"Ah, you know. Same old shit." she replied, nonchalantly.

"You had that dream again, huh?" he asked. He knew exactly what she was talking about. For the last 4 years he had taken care of her. He had found her, a scrawny pile of dirty clothes, at the airport parking lot in Chicago. She had been begging for money in the rain. That first night, when she slept in the backseat of his car as he drove, the nightmares were awful. When they had reached his place, she refused to tell him anything and she refused to go up to his apartment. So he had given her some blankets and his spare key, that way she could go up and shower and eat anytime she wanted. In the morning, he had found her on his couch, arms wrapped around her backpack and sneakers still on her feet.

It had been a slow process, but eventually she had come around. Ray was no stranger to the life she had apparently been living. He had been a foster kid, thrown around between different families, never finding a real home. He had spent his fair share of time on the streets as a runaway, so he truly did get it. Harlan wouldn't be the first runaway he had helped out. No sir. Having worked some of the oddest and perhaps shadiest jobs, and now as a bouncer-slash-doorman at local indy wrestling events, he had kept his eye on many a young runaway.

Ray snapped back to reality as he heard Harlan speak, clearly trying not to let any pain show through her voice.

"Yeah, the night I left mom. I keep going back to that night, in my dreams, and I know it's because I shouldn't have left her that way...but..." she looked down at her feet.

Ray wanted to wrap her up in his arms, but he knew she wouldn't like that. Sex was not a problem for her, he'd seen her flirting shamelessly with a few of the younger wrestlers here and there, and even caught some guys doing the walk of shame in the morning as they crept out of her room in whichever hotel they were staying at. But real intimacy? Emotion? Forget it. Talking about things was as much as you got from Harley, if she let you in, but none of the touchy feely stuff.

"But nothing, Harley. You basically drained all the money your father left you when he passed, and for what, so your mother could sit on her ass and get high? Maybe you should check on her someday, when you're ready, but don't go feeling guilty for breaking away from her."

She silently nodded and retreated to the bathroom, locking the bathroom door behind her. Ray could hear the sound of the water running and the shower curtain being pulled back. He sighed and stood, walking to her bed. He quickly cleaned the room up, folding things up and setting them in neat piles on the bed. He waited quietly, gazing out the window, as Harlan rushed about getting what she needed from the piles on the bed and getting ready in the bathroom.

As they left the hotel room, Ray threw her the car keys and he nodded his head towards the hotel's office. She went ahead to the car and let herself in while he settled up the bills. When he returned and was buckled into his seat, he turned to her and ruffled her hair.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road." he laughed, turning on the car as she tried to fix her hair.


	3. Fuck It!

_**Someone in the World**_

**Summary:** What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood. _Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings:** Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature _(when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer:** This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

As Harlan sat at the diner booth, waiting for Ray to get back from the bathroom, she watched the other people around her. People watching was something she always enjoyed doing. Not in any creepy way, but just to see what others had going on. It didn't make her feel jealous if she saw "happy" people, it just gave her a look into what else life could have been. Sometimes what she saw was even worse than what she'd experienced, but that was the whole point. She liked seeing the differences and the parallels.

"Okay, you ready to go?" Ray huffed as he made it back to the booth.

Harlan stood and grabbed her backpack. Ray glanced at it and smiled. That girl always carried that thing with her. Heaven forbid if she ever left it in his car while they ate.

"Where are we going?" she asked him, chewing on a broken off piece from her straw as she followed him out of the diner. Ever since she had met Ray it had been one huge road trip. Over the span of the last 4 years they'd been nearly everywhere in the US.

"There's a couple of matches going down in Ohio, and I figure we can make it there in time for the show, we're only a couple of hours away as it is." he explained

Harlan continued chewing on the straw, much to Ray's disapproval. As she climbed into the car, he reached over and took it out of her mouth, chucking it out his door before he closed it.

"Hey!" she protested loudly.

"Hey, yourself. You're going to mess your teeth." he chided.

Harlan shrugged and looked out the window as he drove, content in the amicable silence. That's the way it was between them. She always called him her brother, but in reality, he definitely was old enough to be her father.

The scenery zoomed by as he drove and drove, Harlan nodding off into a short, and thankfully nightmare-free, sleep. When they reached their destination, Ray leaned over and softly shook her arm.

"Hey, Harley, we're here" he whispered.

She woke up and blinked a few times before taking in the area. Dingy was a nice way of putting it. More like "Don't stick around too long", the dark parking lot was home to a dirty, somewhat abandoned looking building which just about screamed "DANGER" at her.

They got out of the car, and much to her joy, they made their way to the sketchy looking building with Ray going through the usual rules.

"I know I say this every single time, but this time I mean it, Harley. Keep your nose out of everything. Get your camera, take your new shots, and get back out as soon as the bell rings on the last match. Then get your butt to where I am and we'll set up your already developed shots for the buyers."

"I know, I know. Don't worry, Ray. We've got this." she said, quickly patting him on the arm.

"Harley! Don't shrug this off. This time it's serious. Trust me, I rather not bring you here, but I know if I even try to drop you off at a hotel somewhere, you'll probably just bus your way back here. There are some real nasty guys here tonight, okay? The card for tonight has a Fans Bring the Weapons hardcore match. You know the kind of people those matches bring in!" Ray's voice was strained as he tried to keep calm while explaining the seriousness of the situation to her.

Harlan rolled her eyes, "Ray, c'mon. I'm Canadian. We're as polite as people can be, would I get into any trouble?" she fluttered her lashes at him, pouting her lips and holding her hands under her chin.

Ray shook his head and prayed to any gods out there that not a thing would happen to a single hair on her head tonight.

Walking into the building, it appeared to have been an elementary or middle school at one time. The majority of the halls, from what Harlan could tell, were blocked off with steel shutters.

"Whoa, this isn't creepy at all", she muttered under her breath.

"Exactly, this is why I said what I said about being careful. Places like this give me the chills" Ray said softly, as Harlan tried not to laugh at the idea of someone who looks as imposing as he does being afraid of a few dark hallways.

Their steps echoed behind them as they made their way to the gym by following the crudely written signs.

Ray noticed a long table off to the side in a nearby blocked off hallway, luckily on their side of the steel shutter, and he pointed it out to Harlan.

"Perfect. Help me move this over near the gym doors. We'll use this for your sales after the show."

Together they moved what probably used to be a classroom desk for two people. Harlan glanced down at the scribbles on the dark plastic "wood", reading various "wuz here" and "luvs me" messages, along with a few not very polite messages.

"Soooo I'm guessing nobody really liked Mrs. Garry", she mused out loud.

Ray chuckled, "I think everyone's had their own Mrs. Garry. Ah, the poor Garry's of the world."

They set the table against the wall and Harlan sat down on the table, her legs swinging over the edge, while Ray went over to the small "Coach's Office" to speak with the person his contact had told him about. She peered over to her left, towards the gym doors and through the small panes of glass, and saw a small crew putting together a ring and setting up chairs.

Once Ray returned it was a matter of waiting for the start time to creep closer. The closer it got, the more people trickled in. Ray collected the entrance fees and pointed people towards the doors behind him. Soon enough, the place was more packed than Harlan had expected.

"It's getting pretty packed here, Ray. I'm going to go find a spot before all the good ones are taken", she told him as she hopped off the table and made her way to the gym.

"Careful!" he called after her, watching as she waved back at him in response.

As she walked into the gym she tried not to feel overwhelmed with how many people were already in the small space. The temperature difference was noticeable, the gym feeling hot and stifling. The smell of sweat already permeated the air before any wrestling had even begun. Harlan weaved her way through the crowd until she found a spot that was semi-secluded and near the door where the wrestlers would walk out but near enough to the ring for some decent action shots.

"Don't want to get too close and suffer any broken bones. Brother Ray would throw a fit, and we certainly don't want that, nooooo we don't!" she mumbled to herself as she settled into her spot.

A few matches in and she had managed to get some decent shots of some wrestlers as they walked in. The action shots were proving a bit difficult with the arrival of some guys who must have been genetically related to giraffes. Being a mere 5'5" it was proving near impossible for Harlan to see the ring. She decided she'd cross the aisle in front of the locker room door and find a spot in the opposite section of the gym. Harlan was just getting her leg over the rope when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She whipped around quickly, ready to take a verbal bite out of whoever was touching her, but she didn't even get a chance to get a word in.

"Fox, you're up in two matches, you know that? We've been looking for you everywhere. Put that junk away and go get into your gear" the man said roughly without even taking a proper glance at her face. He reeked of chewing tobacco and his giant glasses were in desperate need of a cleaning. He pushed her through the locker room door before she could even protest.

Harlan stood there and realized she had just been thrown into the male locker room. The men looked her up and down, some whistling, but most of them just went on with their own preparations. She looked behind her to speak with the guy who had thrown her in there but he was nowhere to be found. Sighing loudly she approached the first semi-friendly looking person she could find, a guy in a track suit holding a clipboard.

"Excuse me, do you kn-"

"Fox? Is that what Walt just called you? What, are you new here?" the man said, without even looking up from his clipboard.

"Ummm, well not rea-"

"Yeah, yeah, you're on the list tonight for a hardcore match. Listen, toots, you go through this door behind me, and take a left out of this room and go down the hall. Unless you're packing something different in your panties, the second door on your right is the ladies room. Got it?" he rattled out.

_Wonderful_, Harlan thought. _Maybe there'll be someone more receptive in the ladies room._

Walking into the ladies room she found it considerably less busy.

_Am I wrestling myself? _She thought to herself, taking in the empty room. Walking around the child-size locker room benches, she walked towards where the toilets must be. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a figure standing at the mirror. The older, yet attractive woman looked her over through the mirror and spoke to her while applying her blush.

"Hey, you must be Fox. You've got some balls, you know that. A hardcore match against El Jefe? That's just nuts" the woman's slightly raspy voice and the empty locker room made Harlan think of any number of scenes in probably a million dirty adult movies.

"No no, listen, I'm not Fox. I came in here hoping to find someone to, I don't know...help me out" Harlan explained.

The woman put away her makeup and turned around to face her. She was chewing some gum loudly, the smacking sound the only noise in the empty locker room.

"So if you're not Fox, where is she?"

Harlan shrugged, "Beats me. I'm just here taking photographs"

The woman's green eyes raked over Harlan's body.

"Well, you look like you've got a good body, from what I can tell anyway. Those jeans are a bit too baggy to be helping you out though, doll"

"Uhhh... Thank you? How does that help me?" Harlan asked, completely unsure of where this conversation was going.

The woman smoothed out her blonde curls and walked towards a duffle bag sitting on a bench, talking as she walked.

"I don't know, kid, you look like you could use the cash. Fox ain't here, and you look like you can take a beating. Do the math." she cracked her gum loudly.

Harlan leaned against the nearest wall, completely caught off guard by the woman's suggestion. She watched the blonde disrobe, her tight yet over-tanned body now completely naked in front of her. _Yup, this is how dirty movies are born_, Harlan thought.

"But I've never done any wrestling before, like, not even in high school" she told the blonde.

The blonde shimmied into a tight, short red dress with lace sleeves.

"C'mere and zip me up, kid." the blonde demanded. Harlan walked over and zipped up the dress.

"A hardcore match against El Jefe isn't going to be much wrestling anyway. Like I said, you look like you can take a beating. Just do your best to hit him before he hits you" the blonde said, shrugging her slim shoulders.

Harlan stood there, her brows drawn in deep thought.

"Look, I'm his valet, okay, if you're gonna do this thing I can try to let him know you ain't Fox and maybe Jefe will go easier on you, but I'm not promising anything" blondie offered.

"Not to rush you or anything, but, you've gotta make this decision now. We're up next", she said while she put her curly blonde hair up in a messy bun, leaving ringlets here and there to lie against her neck.

_Okay, well, I DO need the money. Ray is going to kill me but... What's the worst that can happen? I mean. I can deal out some major pain, and I can handle my fair share too...Yeah, yeah, Fuck it. What do I have to lose, really?_

"Okay, fine. But I need something to wear"


	4. Time to Tango

_**Someone in the World**_

**Summary:** What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood. _Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings:** Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature _(when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer:** This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

The blonde peered around Harlan's shoulders to spot the backpack.

"You telling me you've got nothing in that bag of yours?"

Harlan took a mental stock of what she had in her backpack.

"I've got a pair of black cargo capri pants that could work, but I don't think I have any tops other than hoodies and t-shirts."

The older blonde chewed her gum pensively, "How shy are you about showing some skin?"

"Not very shy... why, what are you thinking?" Harlan asked, as she watched the blonde lean over to rummage through her own duffle bag. The blonde straightened up again holding a black fishnet top.

"You should be fine putting this on over your bra. You'll look great, kid" she cracked her gum for effect.

Grabbing the fishnet top, Harlan mentally thanked herself for thinking to shave at the hotel as she quickly changed into the capris and borrowed top.

The blonde watched with renewed interest, "I was right. You've got a good little body, missy. I don't know why you hide that in baggy pants and hoodies if you say you ain't shy about it"

Harlan walked over to the sinks and checked out her reflection in the mirror. She probably should feel weird about showing her bra to strangers, but she had to admit her breasts looked amazing in their D cup black bra. She didn't really have a washboard or anything, but her tummy was clearly smooth and toned through the fishnet and in the capris you could see her calves, strong and not jiggling in the least. Her arms held that strong and toned look, not muscular but at the same time promising a fight to anyone who dared test her. She looked like an average young girl who just might spend extra time in a gym. Harlan shrugged, she guessed being a runaway and jumping fences and running from security guards had its perks.

As Harlan stood ruffling her long auburn hair for that "I'm crazy and I know it" look, blondie walked up and offered to freshen her makeup. She used black kohl for a dramatic effect on Harlan's gray eyes, simple nude lipstick, and sheer blush. Harlan couldn't deny it gave her a fierce look, like someone who would actually know what she was doing in the ring.

As the two were appreciating the transformation, the track suit man waltzed right in.

"Ladies, ladies, c'mon, you're killing me. You're on in two. Move those tight asses, c'mon!"

Harlan took a deep breath, "Well...here goes."

Blondie wordlessly patted her on the back before walking out to follow the track suit man.

Before walking out to follow them, Harlan took a moment to wedge her backpack behind a toilet. Yeah, it wasn't the cleanest spot in the world, but it was the most out of sight. They weren't the most valuable possessions in the world, but they were sentimental, and she'd be damned if she let someone steal or damage them in any way.

* * *

As El Jefe's Spanish hip hop intro music played, Harlan bent to make sure her gray converse sneakers were tied tightly. These babies had been with her for years and she didn't want to lose one in her very first match ever. She stood up and took deep breaths as she watched the crowd going nuts over El Jefe.

She managed to overhear someone say "Oh, man, look at Lacey, she's looking fuckable in that red dress".

_Oh, Lacey. Cute, she probably finds some lace to wear in every outfit, _Harlan thought.

After watching El Jefe make several vicious faces and threatening gestures in the ring, someone finally nodded to Harlan and she knew it was her turn to walk out. As some generic rock and roll music played, she walked down towards the ring and she caught the confusion on people's faces.

_I guess Fox isn't completely unknown to everyone in this place..._

As she reached the ring, she looked to her left and caught what the commentators were saying at their table.

"Well, guys. This is a bit of a surprise. The card showed a hardcore match between Fox and El Jefe; as you know, Fox was new to the scene and had previously set a challenge to the current King of Hardcore. She asked for this match and she got it, but she doesn't seem to be here, Mick!"

"You're right, Joel! While this female looks every bit the tough cookie, she is certainly not Fox. But, like I said, she looks like she can handle herself, so I guess we'll see how this pans out!"

"I don't know, Mick. It's bad enough that it's a mix-gender match, but it's hardcore AND it's involving a complete newbie. This could spell a whole lot of trouble for our young female here."

Shaking off the butterflies in her stomach and ignoring the rest of the banter from the commentators, Harlan hoisted herself up onto the apron, stood, and somehow managed to gracefully make her way through the ropes.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was I thinking? No, seriously, WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING?_

Harlan's mouth suddenly felt very dry, her palms felt sweaty and her pulse thundered in her ears as she looked over at El Jefe. His shoulder length black hair was covered in gel for that wet look and it was streaked with white and gray, but that's the only thing that looked old on this guy. His eyes pierced her to her very core. His face twisted in a vicious smirk. He beat his fists against his extremely solid chest and then he roared at her.

_Oh, Jesus. What the hell did I get myself into? _Harlan thought, as she felt her knees weaken the slightest bit.

From the right she saw a referee enter the ring. Once in the middle of the ring, he called out the rules of the match.

"Alright guys, this is a hardcore Fans Bring the Weapons match. You are free to use any of the chairs, tables and ladders that are under the ring. Throughout the match fans will be allowed to either hand you weapons or throw them into the ring. While head shots are not completely banned, they are highly discouraged as they can prove to be fatal and we certainly do not promote murder in any degree. Once the bell rings, have at it. Be as safe as you can possibly be."

With that, he retreated to a corner and someone passed him a megaphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have a hardcore Fans Bring the Weapons contest scheduled for one fall, no disqualifications. In this corner, our current King of Hardcore, weighing in at 286 pounds and hailing from Mexico City – EL JEFE!"

The crowd erupted with cheers and claps; it was like the entire room exploded with excitement and energy.

"And in the opposite corner, hailing from Arizona, a newcomer to our ring, weighing in at 115 pounds and most of that is probably from her balls, the gutsy challenger – FOX!"

This time, the crowd was a mixture of cheers and confused murmurs, proving yet again that some people knew she wasn't the real Fox. Harlan's eyes were glued to the ref as one of the commentators jumped up and into the ring. She watched with interest as the commentator whispered something to the ref. Both men looked at her and Harlan felt a slight tinge of hope.

_Maybe they'll cancel this thing. Yeah, maybe they will. This was such a bad idea._

As the commentator left the ring and made his way back to his table, the ref walked up to Harlan.

"You! I've been told you're not Fox. We can't cancel this thing, not after amping up the crowd like this. What's your name, weight, and where are you from?" he asked her, completely uncaring of the fact she was starting to look like a deer in headlights.

Harlan gulped and managed to croak out the answers.

"My name is Harlan – Harley is my nickname. I'm 115, so that part was right, but I'm not from Arizona. I'm from Ottawa, Ontario, Canada..."

Without so much as nodding at her, the ref turned on his heel and walked back to the middle of the ring, raising the megaphone to his lips.

"Our apologies, ladies and gentlemen, but this is not Fox-", the crowd interrupted him with their booing, thinking that he was going to cancel the match, "-but hold on, folks, we're not canceling the match."

The crowd cheered with renewed interest.

"El Jefe's opponent is a complete stranger and newbie to the game! Weighing in at 115 pounds and hailing from our ever-so-nice neighboring country of Canada, this is HARLEY! Let's give her a few cheers to lessen the pain she will no doubt be feeling tonight!"

The crowd actually cheered louder than when they thought she was Fox.

_That doesn't really help...I'm still dead...Died in a Cincinnati Ring, Here Lies the Idiot Harlan..._

Time seemed to slow down. The referee seemed to move in slow motion as he walked back to the corner and handed back the megaphone to someone below him. He walked to the middle of the ring, gestured for the bell, and beckoned the two wrestlers forward.

The bell rang and Harlan's stomach dropped to her toes.


	5. What Doesn't Kill You

_**Someone in the World**_

**Summary:** What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood. Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle.

**Warnings:** Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature _(when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer:** This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

Harlan watched in absolute horror as El Jefe charged at her and speared her right into her corner of the ring, his shoulder slamming into her midsection.

The wind knocked out of her, Harlan slipped down to the canvas and she instinctively covered her head with her arms and crossed her legs at the ankles, effectively creating a shield for her body. El Jefe's big black boots bit into her legs and his fists rained down onto her arms. Just when she thought he'd managed to crack one of her bones with a particularly vicious kick, he backed up and allowed her some breathing room. She tentatively peeked through her arms and saw him waiting in the middle of the ring, a smug look on his face. Then, when he ran a hand through his gelled hair, she felt an instant rush of anger.

_He looks like an older version of the asshole who raided my house the night I left..._

Using that anger as fuel, she unfolded herself and got to her feet. She shook off the pain, jumping on the spot a few times and cracking her knuckles. Right then, someone in the audience handed her a kendo stick wrapped up in barbed wire.

"Just you and me, dude. Come and get me!" she yelled at him. And he did, running right into a brutal backswing of the barbed wire kendo stick. It caught him in the face, the wire tearing through the skin of his left cheek and down his chin.

He stopped dead in his tracks, touched his face with his hand and looked down at the blood on his fingers.

"You're going to pay for that, little bitch!" he growled before charging at her once again. This time, Harlan was ready. She ducked down and he passed right over her, Harlan squeezing in between his legs. She shot up to a standing position and raked the kendo stick down his back before he could turn around, the barbed wire tearing through his white wife-beater, blood seeping through the fabric from the bite of the wire.

The crowd was going nuts, absolutely shocked at the damage Harlan was reaping onto the seasoned Mexican. She was even feeling halfway to confident until she saw someone throw a huge chain into the ring, right at El Jefe's feet.

Without turning around he picked up the chain, twirling one end around his fist. When he faced her again, his eyes held a sadistic glint. He rolled his wrist, making the loose end of the chain fly through the air.

He let the chain whip through the air at her, Harlan dived to her right as quickly as possible, but the chain still smacked against her ankle.

_Goddamn, that's a heavy son of a bitch_

Pain shot up her calf and she landed roughly on her back. She lay there, holding her ankle for a split second, but a second was all El Jefe needed. Before she could even release her ankle, he was on her, pulling her towards him by the hair. He wrapped the chain around her neck and she barely managed to get a few fingers in between the chain and her neck. He tightened it, nearly choking her.

Harlan choked out a cry as El Jefe suddenly pulled on the chain, yanking her around the ring like a doll. He yanked her around until he finally decided to wrap the opposite end of the chain to the ropes, chaining Harlan to the ring. Her throat burned from the force of the chain, despite her fingers giving her a little space. She tried to free herself, yanking on the chain with one hand, but it was all in vain.

Harlan was forced to sit there, chained, as El Jefe riled up the crowd by making obscene gestures towards her. Then, to her horror, she watched as he picked up the kendo stick she had dropped.

He whistled at her, like you would to a dog, "Here, little bitch, here, here. I have a gift for you!"

He walked towards her with the stick raised and ready to slam down on her. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and as he brought down the kendo stick, she raised her legs and managed to block the blow with the bottoms of her sneakers.

"Fuck!" she coughed out, as the movement tightened the chain around her neck. She pulled on it fruitlessly. El Jefe laughed and smacked her forearms with the stick, the barbed wire easily biting her skin through the fishnet shirt.

Harlan didn't have a chance to scream, as right on the heels of that blow was another smack to her exposed shins and then another to her calves. The wire cut her skin, trails of blood traveling down her legs to the canvas beneath her.

He was about to smack her arms again when she panicked and put her hands out in front of her. Instantly, the chain bit into her neck with full force and the kendo stick slapped into her palms.

She tried to scream in agony as the barbed wire bit into her palms, but she couldn't thanks to the chain squeezing all air from her throat. Against all logic, she closed her hands around the stick, the wire dug deeper into her fingers and palms, but she hung on and pulled with all her might in an attempt to steal the stick from El Jefe.

_I'm not going to make it. It's getting hazy_

Her hold on the stick slackened but before her vision got any darker, the stick fell from both their grasps. Harlan thought that maybe the match was over, but to her dismay it was just El Jefe moving onto something more fun. He removed the chain from around her neck. Her throat and lungs burned with the much needed air that was finally allowed in, she gasped on all fours, chest heaving and palms stinging as the canvas made contact with her wounds.

"I'm not done with you yet!" he called out as he kicked her in the ribs. Harlan rolled onto her side, holding onto her ribs and groaning in pain. Her eyes opened and through the blur she caught sight of El Jefe hoisting a chair in the air.

_When did he get that?_

Scrambling, she somehow found the energy to roll away before the chair hit her, the crowd roaring in absolute bloodlust. One of the fans in the crowd approached and handed her a steel baseball bat. She griped it in her hands, ignoring her protesting palms, and angrily rushed El Jefe. The bat made contact with the side of his neck and he went down on one knee, dazed.

"You think I'll give up? I've been through worse, asshole!" she coughed out at him. Tired and pained as she was, she couldn't help but use all the pent up rage from over the years to fuel her. He'd have to knock her out cold; she'd gone through too much to go down without a fight. She didn't want to let the pain win anymore. She wanted to win.

Taking advantage of his position on one knee, she swung the bat and caught him on the back of his opposite knee, forcing him down on both knees. He attempted to swivel towards her but she swung again and this time caught him right across the shoulders blades, he jerked forward as she continued with multiple quick swings to his shoulder blades. He dropped to the canvas and attempted to roll away from her but she stomped down on his arm, holding him in place, flat on his back. Before he could push her off, she hammered down the blunt end of the bat onto his shoulder. There was a loud pop and crack as the joint dislocated and he screamed out in pain. She released his arm and it lay there, limp.

Slowly he got up, holding onto his dislocated arm. He glared at her before gesturing to someone in the crowd, and through the masses Lacey appeared. She hopped up onto the apron, her eyes darted towards Harlan and they made eye contact. She gave Harlan a remorseful look before throwing a small cloth bag to El Jefe. She mouthed "I'm sorry" to Harlan and quickly looked away before hopping back down and hiding once again in the crowd.

_She doesn't even want to be near this mess, I don't blame her _Harlan thought, a wave of dizziness threatening to overcome her as all the exertion and pain started to catch up to her.

She eyed El Jefe warily as he opened the bag and spilled out the contents onto a wide area in the middle of the ring. Thumbtacks.

He charged at her but Harlan managed to slide to the side, she brought the bat down onto his back again and he roared in protest. As he turned, she dove at his legs, attempting to trip him into the thumbtacks but instead he landed on her. With only one good arm he grabbed her by the throat and lifted her high up into the air, her sneakered feet dangling. She tried to kick him in the side, but it proved to be useless. She clawed at his hand and arm but he held on.

"You're done, puta!" he sneered, as he slammed her down onto the thumbtacks. She hissed through clenched teeth as the tacks lodged themselves into her back, the backs of her legs and her arms.

And then he broke the rules. He brought the steel chair down onto her head and everything went pitch black. Silent.


	6. Cigarettes and Chewing Gum

_**Someone in the World**_

**Summary:** What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood. _Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings:** Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature _(when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer:** This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

_She was a little girl again, trying to put together a puzzle in her playroom. The bright yellow curtains swayed with the warm summer breeze coming in through the open window._

_She sat on the floor, the puzzle box lid beside her for reference, and all the pieces scattered on the table in front of her. She hummed a random tune as She worked on completing the corners first._

_All of a sudden She caught a whiff of a familiar scent. Her head snapped up as She tried to see where it was coming from, or how it was possible. Her eyes scanned the room and She noticed the curtains weren't moving anymore and it was eerily silent._

_From the corner of her eye, She saw a gliding figure. A tall and handsome man stood in front of her, just out of her reach. He smiled down at her._

_"My baby girl, Gracie" She thought she heard him say, but his lips didn't move. Weird..._

_"Baby girl, listen to me, you have to take care of your momma, okay? I know I've been gone, but soon you'll be old enough. Take care of her for me, okay Baby Girl?"_

_She dropped the puzzle piece that was in her hand and it bounced down and over the table's edge. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened._

_"But...how...Mom said you died last year" She managed to mumble._

_The tall man simply smiled at her, "Gracie, remember I love you. I love you both very much"_

_And then he vanished. She stood up and frantically ran to where he had been standing. She could still smell him; that familiar spice hung in the air._

_"Dad! Come back! DAD!" She yelled._

_She heard footsteps and knew her mother was coming. Sure enough, she walked into the room, concern etched on her face._

_"Grace, what's wrong, what happened, who are you shouting at?"_

_"It was dad. Dad was here, he was here!" She said, tears in her voice. Her eyes watered as she looked to her mother for an explanation._

_Her mother collapsed in the doorway, landing hard on her knees. She covered her mouth with both hands as tears trailed down her cheeks._

_"Grace, baby, I told you. Daddy died" she managed to say between sobs._

_The little girl couldn't believe it. She knew what She had seen. She knew what She had smelled. It was him._

_"No, no, no, no! It was him, it was him, it was him!" She screamed, the tears escaping her clenched eyes, She sat on the floor and drew her legs up, knees covering her face, arms wrapping around her legs._

_Mother and daughter both sat there on the floor crying; together and yet separate in their grief._

Harlan felt like she was floating back down to earth. She was losing the scene of the memory, her thoughts and memories mixing in an incoherent rush as she started to regain consciousness.

Through the rush, she smelled cigarettes and mint, and heard a deep voice laced with a soft Cincinnati twang.

"You're going to be okay, take it easy, don't wake up too quickly"

* * *

Harlan woke up with a jolt, quickly sitting up in the strange bed. Her head throbbed and her stomach turned as a wave of nausea hit her. She clapped a hand over her mouth and waited it out, hoping it would pass. Luckily it did.

"Okay, I get it, slow and easy movements..." she mumbled to herself under her breath.

She slowly turned her head to scan the room. It appeared to be a hospital room. She looked down at her wrist where a plastic hospital bracelet was wrapped around her.

_Matheson, Harlan Grace – DOB 11/17/1988 – Good Samaritan Hospital_

"Oh great, what happened?" she groaned, asking nobody in particular. She noticed the room was empty and she wondered who had brought her here.

_Where's Ray?_

Just then she heard hushed voices outside the room and she noticed the door wasn't completely closed. She strained to hear what the voices were saying.

_Wait, why does that voice sound familiar? It's that accent..._

"Yeah, it was a stupid thing to do, but she lived. Like, what can you do that's worse than what she just faced, think about it! And why would you even want to? I'm just saying, she took it like a champ, like, seriously a champ, and I think the last thing she needs right now is your boot up her ass."

_Who IS that? _Harlan thought. She couldn't figure out why it sounded so familiar.

"Sorry, and who are you? Look, I appreciate you jumping into the ring and carrying her out. I even appreciate you shoving me into the backseat of my own car and driving us to this hospital. But you don't know her or me and you certainly shouldn't be giving me advice on how to raise her!"

_Oh, god, he's in full Brother Mode _She groaned as she recognized Ray's voice biting off the head of that mystery man.

"Alright, alright, take it easy. Do whatever you want. By the way, she looks a little bit too old for anyone to be raising her, but yeah, I get it. Whatever. Just try not to like, eat her alive."

Catching her off guard, the door suddenly opened and Ray walked in. She expected the mystery man to be behind him but he was alone.

"Little Miss Genius is awake, that's good to see" Ray said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Harlan had the decency to look embarrassed before trying to defend herself.

"We needed the cash! My photos are good but they don't bring in as much as we need, and you're always covering all the expenses. I wanted to help!"

Ray balled up his fists and spoke through gritted teeth, "So you figured if you got killed in the ring, I'd get the benefit of spending less?"

Her face flushing in shame, she lifted her chin and tried to sound proud, "I did better than THAT"

Stomping a huge boot on the floor, Ray berated her, "That is severely beside the point! What if... Imagine if... What would I have done?"

She couldn't believe her eyes when a lone tear squeezed out of one of his eyes and he hurriedly wiped it away. She felt her heart melt and she hung her head, her shoulders slumping forward.

"I'm really sorry, Ray..." she whispered.

She heard him sigh heavily and then he was next to her, holding her hand. She looked down at his huge hand swallowing hers up. She couldn't remember the last time someone had held her hand.

_Actually, yeah, I remember it was mom at dad's funeral..._

And then something happened that neither one of them were expecting.

Harlan wrapped her arms as best she could around the big guy and she held on for a good long while.


	7. The Wrong Way Or The Highway

_**Someone in the World**_

**Summary:** What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood. _Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings:** Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature _(when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer:** This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

Sleepless in Cincinnati was far less intriguing than it sounded, and it was also an understatement. In Harlan's own words, her night at the hospital absolutely sucked, hard. After the first few hundred times that Ray woke her up on the hour, every hour, she was just about ready to snap. She understood it was for a good reason, the possibility of a concussion was no laughing matter, but between the pain medication and the inability to get any real sleep, Harlan was seriously considering limping away into a janitor's closet to get some proper shut-eye.

"Thank god that's over with..." she said as she gingerly got out of the hospital bed once morning came. She debated throwing Ray's cell phone out the window just to stop the shrieking alarm clock.

She was looking around for her backpack when Ray walked in holding what appeared to be coffee, water and two muffins.

"Ray, where's my backpack?" she asked him, trying to keep the edge out of her voice.

He put down the food on the meal tray built into the bed and wordlessly walked into the en-suite bathroom. He walked back out holding her precious cargo.

"Have a little faith, kiddo. I know how anal you are about this thing. I'm not saying you aren't justified, but I'm also saying it's a bit neurotic. I hid it in the bathroom while I went to grab something halfway decent from the cafeteria."

Harlan hobbled over as quickly as she could and grabbed the backpack with both arms.

"How are you feeling on this beautiful morning?" Ray asked as he sat down on the chair next to the bed and devoured his muffin. Harlan's eyes narrowed as she watched him grab the coffee cup.

"If that's your coffee...where's mine?"

He smirked, "You know you can't have coffee for at least another day. Your stomach's still tender from the ultra-meds they gave you last night when you were brought in so they could stitch up your head and some slashes on your arms."

Harlan resisted the urge to whine as she realized her breakfast would consist of water and a muffin.

_Who the hell has water for breakfast? Oh right. Idiot newbies who crawl into wrestling rings with creepy old Mexican dudes..._

"Anyway, Harley, once you're all cleaned up and dressed, we're getting out of here. You're cleared for take-off. I'm thinking we take it easy for a few days, you know, get some much needed R&R."

"R&R? Doesn't that mean Romance and Relaxation? No offense, Ray, but you're way too furry for me. And old. Definitely too old."

Ray scrunched up his face, "Hell, no. It means Rest and Recreation. You're awful."

As she grabbed her backpack and headed towards the bathroom, she paused.

"Wait, how did you know where I had stashed my bag?"

He shrugged, sipping on his coffee.

"I didn't. I overheard some people talking as they went out for a smoke. They mentioned the Canadian chick in the ring must be crazy for going against the Mexican, but that she was...and I quote...mighty fine with her long hair and big tits."

Harlan tried not to laugh; she saw how uncomfortable Ray looked as he repeated those words.

"And that obviously made you think of me..."

"It was more or less the Canadian part. I ran in there in time to see that douchebag slam the chair down onto your head. I guess I froze because I couldn't understand what you were even doing in there in the first place...anyway...some guy climbed right in and lifted you in his arms. While he was bringing you down from the ring, you kind of woke up and you were rambling something awful about the camera in the toilet."

Harlan's interest piqued, "What guy? Who was he?"

"Beats me, but I'm glad he took charge. Fuck, I was too busy being a pussy; I don't know what got into me. Anyway, he all but stole my car keys and hauled you out to the car, then it clicked in my head, you must have hidden your backpack in the ladies room. I don't know what would have happened if he hadn't been there. Man, he really pushed the pedal to the metal, I'm glad we didn't get stopped by any cops on the way to the hospital."

_Oh, this is making more sense...kind of..._

"So, did he give a name? Where did he go?" she said, trying her best to sound completely neutral. And failing completely.

Ray rolled his eyes, "Seriously, you look like Frankenstein's creepy sister. Give the flirting a rest for a while."

"That's NOT why I want to know! You make me sound like such a slut, thanks a lot for that. You're doing wonders for my self-esteem" she said as she walked into the bathroom.

Before she shut the door, Ray hollered back at her, "I'm not doing as good of a job as your impromptu wrestling stunt has done. I just can't wait for you to see yourself."

She rolled her eyes and shut the door, putting the backpack down on the ground.

_Whoa, this is one huge bathroom_

In it was a sink, mirror, toilet, and at the far end, a shower – the kind you'd see in a locker room.

Facing the mirror she almost recoiled.

"What the fuck?" she nearly screamed, taking in the partial shave on one side of her head, the bandages wrapped around her head, the bruising forming around her eyes. The Walking Dead came to mind.

Through the door she heard Ray laughing his ass off.

* * *

A few days had turned into nearly a month since Harlan's experience in the Cincinnati ring. After spending a week in a motel in Cincinnati, Ray had flown them out to Chicago so they could relax in his apartment. At first, she thought she was going to lose her mind. The boredom and monotony was eating away at her soul, or so she said to an exasperated Ray on more than one occasion. But then something almost magical happened: she wandered onto YouTube and discovered indy wrestling videos. Call her crazy, but after having the time to accept her pseudo-fashionable shave, which was starting to look like a Chia pet, and her many cuts and bruises, she realized her time in the Cincy ring had been thrilling. Exhilarating, even.

Ray came home from grocery shopping to find Harlan on the couch, laptop on her lap. It looked like she was YouTube-ing wrestling videos again. Throwing the keys on the counter and dropping the bags onto the kitchen table, he frowned but opted not to say anything. He had something more important to say.

"Hey, Harley, do you mind helping me put away the groceries?"

After pausing the video and leaving the laptop on the coffee table, she made her way to the kitchen to help him out. She was putting away the fresh veggies in the fridge when she heard Ray clear his throat.

"Umm-ahem-so, I really wanted to talk to you about something... I guess here goes... I decided to umm-ahem-get a fulltime job... here in the city."

Harlan straightened up and closed the fridge door, turning around to face him with a grin on her face.

"You know, funny you should say that, because I was thinking of asking you if we could stay in the city for a while longer. And by that I mean, kind of permanently..."

Ray's eyebrows shot up. This was not the reaction he had expected, especially not after all the bitching she'd been doing about being in Chicago for too long. If it hadn't been clear to him before, she had certainly made it clear this month; Harlan loved being on the road. She loved everything about it, from the people to the places; she practically lived and breathed road trips.

"Okay...why?" he asked while eyeing her suspiciously.

Harlan shrugged and turned to put the bread into the bread bin.

"No reason, really, I just thought that in light of my recent experience, it may be more beneficial and responsible if we stayed and I got a more mainstream job, like, oh I don't know, a waitress... You know, so I could do my part and not get my head shaved again."

She turned around, hands clasped in front of her. Ray had no real reason not to believe her but...

"I'm really glad to hear that, Harley. So we're all good with this, then? I'll be working at Ted's auto-shop and you'll get a job waiting tables at some place?" he said, tugging on his beard, deep in thought. He'd have to keep his eye on her. This had been way too easy, there had to be a catch somewhere.

"You got it, brother from an unknown mother!" she exclaimed, while turning around to put away the pancake mix.

_I know he's going to watch me like a hawk but one way or another... I'm going to hunt down every local hardcore match I can get my hands on._

* * *

**_A/N: Hey guys. I made a few adjustments to the chapters (added a fancy shmancy disclaimer thingy to the top of each page). I was reading this thing over for the billionth time and I realized I made some awful grammatical/spelling errors. I think I got them all. If you see any, don't hesitate to let me know! I would hate to have CM Punk shred me to pieces for missing a few mistakes here and there (Mr. Punk: I did my best, come on, most of this thing is correct!) I don't know how I feel about this new chapter, it's kind of all filler...but I promise it's leading towards something special! Seriously though, I need to throw a HUGE "Thank You" to the people who have read this thing. Mad shout outs to those who have decided to favorite it and follow it. I LOVE the reviews. You guys have no clue how much they mean to me. I definitely didn't expect to have any readers, let alone followers. THANK YOU, THANK YOU!_**


	8. Here's Looking At You

_**Someone in the World  
**_  
**Summary:** What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood. _Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings:** Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature _(when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer:** This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

He was trying to sleep but kept tossing and turning. Something was on his mind, or rather, someone was on his mind; this had been the case for months on end now. It had been ages since he had seen Her, but for whatever reason, he could not shake her.

"Fuck, what the hell's my problem?" he grumbled, as he shook out a cigarette from the pack on the bedside table.

There had been something about Her. He didn't mean it in any romantic way, he just meant that he had felt a connection. That made no sense, he hadn't even spoken to Her, but he felt like She was carrying around a pain, the kind of pain he knew all too well.

Holding the cigarette between his lips, he grabbed his lighter off the bedside table and made his way to the balcony of his hotel room. He lit up and did his best to enjoy his habit, leaning on the balcony railing and looking out at the sky.

"I need to get wasted, and maybe grab a skank or two..." he mused out loud.

_Why not? That usually was the answer for everything... Right?_

"Who was she...?" he breathed out, finishing his cigarette. He smashed the end against the railing before flicking it out over the railing, uncaring of where it would land.

Walking back into the hotel room, he realized he still wasn't going to get any sleep. He grabbed his roommate's laptop and after finding the open edge underneath all the punk band stickers, he popped open the lid and turned it on.

It was almost like his fingers knew what he needed to see. He found himself navigating to an indy wrestling news website. Apparently there was a hot newcomer to the scene; only began six months ago, little to no training, learning things as they came, but clearly had some innate talent. According to the article, if this newcomer was lucky enough to attract the attention of all the right people, there would be big things on the horizon. So far the record stood at mostly losses and a small number of wins, but this newcomer's specialty seemed to be anything hardcore – and that, that was impressive. A female with that kind of pain threshold?

And then he saw the picture. It was Her, arms tight around an opponent in a headlock. The caption containing Her name confirmed it.

"Well... I'll be damned. It's you, sunshine."

* * *

_**A/N: I KNOW! That was ridiculously short. Trust me, I'm kicking myself as I type this and I'm not even sure if posting it is such a good idea. I've had a lot on my plate, but I swear I am NOT forgetting about Harlan. Most importantly, I am not forgetting about YOU GUYS, the readers. On top of being abnormally busy, I seem to have developed some writer's block. I know WHAT I want to write but writing it just keeps kicking me in my metaphorical nuts. I apologize again for the ridiculous short length of this "update" but I thank anyone, sincerely, for reading it and not sending me hate mail. More to come soon.**_


	9. Let the Flames Begin

**_Someone in the World_**

**Summary:**What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood._ Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings: **Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature_ (when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer: **This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

"Come on, Harley! Lock that bitch down!"

Harlan grinned before catching her opponent's ankle in her arms. She wrapped her legs around the other woman's hips and held on tight, putting as much pressure as she could on the ankle without actually snapping any bones. Harlan's grin widened as she watched her opponent struggle.

_Tap, tap, come on, you know you want to tap..._

Readjusting her legs around the woman, she tightened her hold. Sure enough, the bottle-blonde tapped out. The bell rang but Harlan held on for a few seconds extra before pushing the woman away and getting to her feet.

As the crowd cheered Harlan on, a grinning brunette climbed in from ringside. The brunette wrapped her arms around her before raising one of her arms into the air in a display of victory.

"I knew you could do it, Red, you made that bitch cry out for her momma!"

"Thanks, Peyton. Couldn't have done it without your constant commentary from ringside" Harlan laughed.

The two girls waved to the crowd and soaked in the cheers. It wasn't every night that Harlan won a match, especially not against someone who had been wrestling for far longer than she had and who had at least 20 pounds over her.

The walk to the backstage area tonight was different. The air felt charged with excitement. People were actually cheering for her; they actually knew who she was.

Getting into the locker room area, the girls casually ditched their ring gear and headed into the showers.

"Hey, uh, Red...Listen, I know Ray wouldn't approve, especially since you were due home an hour ago, but do you mind coming with me tonight? It's just for a short errand I need to run..." Peyton rambled on from the shower stall next to Harlan.

"You're in luck, lady. Ray's actually out of town for the weekend. I've got his car too. So what exactly is this errand you need to run?" Harlan asked while lathering up her hair.

The girls finished up their showers, wrapping towels around themselves and stepping out. They walked to their respective lockers and began dressing.

"You know how I was telling you about my apartment getting broken into and my entire place getting trashed? I haven't really been back and I need to pick up some stuff...I've just kind of been avoiding that place..."

"No problem, I'll take you to your place. Have the cops found anything? It's all a bit weird, isn't it?" Harlan asked. She hadn't known Peyton for very long, just several months, but everything she had seen so far had seemed harmless. From what she could tell, and she'd know all the signs thanks to her mother, the girl wasn't hiding any substance abuse issues.

"You're joking, right? Chicago police helping someone like me? I don't have enough green to buy myself a solution to this puzzle. I don't know why anyone would want to trash my stuff, no clue at all."

"Where have you been staying? You know that eventually you'll have to officially move out and before that you need to notify your landlord, right?" Harlan asked while securely lacing up her gray converse sneakers.

"Yeah, I know. I probably should get that done next week. I'll get my buddy Cabbie to help me out. I'm actually staying with him." Peyton said as she smoothed out her long brown hair and gave herself a final look-over in the mirror.

Harlan packed up her duffle bag and made sure there was nothing left inside. Even though she had the same locker every night, she never left anything inside. She didn't even leave the lock on the door; she clicked it shut around the duffle's shoulder strap.

"Is he trustworthy? Are you sure you're safe there?"

Peyton giggled before answering, "Cabbie is a sweetheart. He's got this podcast thing going on and he used to wrestle up a storm. I met him ages ago at a different group, before coming here. Don't worry your pretty red head, I'm fine with him."

The girls made their way outside and into the parking lot. They dumped their bags into the backseat and buckled themselves into their seats. Harlan made her way to Peyton's apartment and pulled up right outside.

"Should I wait down here, leave the car on, or do you want me to power her down and come up with you?"

"Would you mind horribly if you came up with me? I don't know, I just feel a bit creeped out going up there alone" Peyton replied, chewing on her lip.

Harlan killed the engine and both girls got out of the car. As they were making their way up to the front door of the building, they heard the loud roar of an engine and tires squealing. Turning around, they saw a car speeding heavily as it made the turn onto their street. The car slowed down as it approached Peyton's building.

"What the..." Peyton mumbled under her breath.

Harlan watched wordlessly as a man in a ski mask leaned his upper body out the passenger side window. He reached down and his arm disappeared inside the car; when he brought his arm back out the window, he was holding something in his hand. Both girls watched as he threw it towards them.

"Look out!" Harlan shouted, quickly pulling Peyton down onto the stone steps. They covered their heads with their arms and heard glass shattering. Harlan kept Peyton down and then glanced up. She saw flames and smelled smoke. The flames reached out the broken window; fiery tongues desperate to lick the air outside. She snapped her head towards the street but the car was speeding up again, tires squealing as they gripped the street to make a quick getaway. She scrambled up and ran out to the sidewalk, hoping to catch a glimpse of the license plate, but the car was too far down the street. It was long gone.

"What the fuck! A molotov? Someone just threw a fucking molotov cocktail into my apartment?" Peyton shouted, pointing up at the flames and smoke.

Harlan walked over, holding out her cell phone.

"Peyton, you need help, professional help. This is getting out of hand. I don't know who these people are, but someone is sending you some serious messages."

Sighing loudly and holding her hands up to her temples, Peyton agreed, "You're right. Fuck, there goes all my stuff..."

As Peyton dialed 911, Harlan watched the flames. An uneasy feeling settled itself into the pit of her stomach.

* * *

_**A/N: I hope this sort of makes up for the last chapter (I can't get over how short it was). Not that this one is any longer, but at least something more exciting happened! Right? Is Peyton hiding something? Will Harlan get caught in the middle of this? Golly, gee!**_


	10. At the Heart of it All

**_Someone in the World_**

**Summary:**What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood._ Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings: **Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature_ (when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer: **This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

"You're sure you can't think of any reason why this would be happening to you?" the cop asked as he scribbled notes into a notepad.

Harlan, Peyton, and Peyton's friend were standing across the street from the scene of the crime. The firefighters had put out the blaze and the cops had arrived as it was standard procedure for any criminal activity – a molotov through Peyton's window definitely fit the bill.

Peyton ran her hands through her long brown hair and shuffled her feet anxiously.

"No, I really can't. Maybe it was just a random act of violence. Or maybe they got the wrong apartment, I mean, that's possible, right? These gang-bangers aren't always the sharpest tools in the shed, am I right, officer?" Peyton said with a dry, humorless laugh.

The cop shrugged his shoulders, clicked his pen and snapped shut his notepad, sliding both into a cargo pocket on his pants.

"Thank you for your cooperation. If we find anything, we'll get back to you. Have a good night, folks".

The three let out a collective breath as the cop sauntered back to his cruiser.

"Now that that's over with...pizza?" Peyton's friend suggested with a goofy grin on his face.

Shoving him amicably, Peyton's tone turned somber as she apologized to the both of them, "Guys, I'm really sorry about this. I know it's such a mess. We probably should talk, so the pizza might not be such a bad idea."

Harlan raised an eyebrow, "What's going on?"

The sinking feeling returned to the pit of Harlan's stomach. Peyton looked down at the pavement; she was the very picture of anxiety and awkwardness.

"Not here. Let's just go somewhere quiet and safe. I can't have this conversation while facing my ash pile of an apartment."

The three climbed into Harlan's car and she drove them to her apartment. Once there, Peyton's friend made himself completely at home by grabbing the phone, calling a pizza place, and rifling through the mail for the delivery address.

"Pizza is ordered, it should be here in 45 minutes or less..." he said, trailing off as he realized the girls had been sitting in silence on opposite ends of the couch.

"I love an awkward situation as much as the next guy, and I'd hate to break the tension, but can we just get this conversation over with?" he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Without looking up at him, Harlan pointed to the armchair across from the couch.

"You may as well make yourself even more comfortable" she said sarcastically.

Laughing he plopped himself down into the armchair. He actually was kind of a big guy, tall and broad shouldered.

"By the way, you can call me Colt or Cabana. Please don't call me Cabbie; that's Peyton's bad habit and I rather not encourage such behavior" he said, a huge smile on his face.

Harlan had to admit that he had a friendly face; good-natured and likeable.

"Colt...like the firearm? Nice. You can call me Harlan, or Harley, like the bike" she said, nodding her head at him in acknowledgement.

Colt winked at her before eyeing Peyton.

"Peyton, come on. Put us out of our misery and spill whatever it is that you wanted to spill" he said softly.

Peyton sighed and grabbed a couch cushion, crushing it to her chest.

"It's a long story... I think I know what's going on, the break in and the fire, I think I know the Why and Who" she said, resting her chin against the top of the couch cushion in her arms.

"That's good, isn't it? Why didn't you tell the cops?" Harlan asked.

"Ugh, it's messy, really messy. I can't risk getting the cops involved. It's bad enough the cops were there at the fire. I'm hoping nothing comes out of their investigation, or that they don't even bother investigating because they've been paid off. If it gets out that there's an investigation... It'll look like I asked for help from the cops!" Peyton said, her voice raising a few octaves.

Harlan waved her hands in the air, "Whoa, one thing at a time. Start at the beginning."

Shoving her face into the cushion, Peyton's muffled swearing could be heard. Emerging from the cushion, her eyes locked onto the floor and she explained it all.

"Before I came back to Chicago...before I joined The Wrecking Yard and met you, Red, I was up in New Jersey working with a group called BRAWL ... Bloody Rage American Wrestling League... The name should have tipped me off, I mean, what the hell kind of name is that, right?"

"I remember you skimming over this, but you never said much about it. It must have been BLOODY awful" Colt chirped in. Harlan rolled her eyes at him and he shrugged.

"Yeah, it was. It was kind of like that place in Cincy that landed you in the hospital, Red. It was disorganized, dirty, and unprofessional, more into damage and less into wrestling. But I was strapped for cash and I was guaranteed a high number of matches per month. I did my best to keep my head down, you know. Get in and do my thing, get my cash, get out. But, it didn't work out that way...it just didn't..." she shut her eyes tightly and clenched her hands.

"I ended up meeting a girl. She wasn't a wrestler, she was a valet. Becky. Cute little thing but she was always sad. I'd see her around the place, walking the halls with her head down and hair in her face, or sitting in corners alone. One day I walked into the locker room and heard someone crying their lungs out. It was her..." Peyton's eyes watered and she reached up to brush away the tears before they fell. She cleared the lump in her throat.

"She had bruises down her arms, I mean, you could tell they were hands, the bruises were in the shapes of fingers. She had more bruising around her neck, and a nasty shiner on one eye. I asked her what happened and she tried to brush me off. I had to basically force it out of her. The guy she was a valet for had roughed her up."

Harlan and Colt both swore under their breaths, shaking their heads.

"Things continued this way for almost the entire time I knew her. I should have done something sooner, but she begged me to stay out of it. She said that he was connected and she didn't want to get me involved. Fuck, I should have done something more!" Peyton yelled angrily.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, come on, that's not fair" Colt said, trying to console her. He got up and moved to sit next to her and tried to put an arm around her shoulders, but she held him back with a hand to his chest.

"Don't. If you do, I'll start crying and never stop and I really need to get this off my chest," she cleared her throat once again, "One day, just two months before I left New Jersey, she came to me completely messed up. At first, I was glad to see her because I hadn't seen her for a few days. But then I saw her face. I had never seen her so panicked. She said that a few days ago he had forced himself onto her; she had fresh bruises on the insides of her thighs and down her calves. She was so scared of getting pregnant because he hadn't bothered to use a condom, and she couldn't even think straight. I took her to a drug store and even though the pharmacist said it probably wouldn't work, we bought her some Plan B to try and prevent a pregnancy. I tried to get her to go to the cops, but again, she refused. She was so afraid of this guy and the people he knew..."

Wordlessly, Peyton reached down and slipped her hand into Colt's hand.

"Sure enough, the damn pharmacist was right. Her period was late, we got some tests; we did two tests and even went to a walk-in clinic to be completely sure... She was pregnant. She was losing her mind; she didn't know what to do. She knew she couldn't have his kid. If she had his kid that would have been the end for her, she said. He would own her, his baby mama. But more importantly, she felt guilty bringing a kid into that life; she knew the kid wouldn't be safe with a dad like that"

Knowing that it would be too hard for Peyton to say out loud, Harlan said the words for her.

"You took her to get an abortion."

Silently, Peyton nodded her head in confirmation. A lone tear trailed down her cheek.

"I put my foot down and finally convinced her to get the hell out of there. We were supposed to hit the road together. She was supposed to come with me. I was supposed to get here out of that toxic place and keep her safe... But she never showed up. I waited around the corner from the BRAWL parking lot, and I waited, and waited. I didn't have a way of calling her; the asshole wouldn't let her have a cell phone. As I was about to walk towards the parking lot to see if she was coming but a car pulled out of the driveway and slowly approached me..."

Colt squeezed her hand and rubbed circles on her skin with his thumb.

"The window rolled down and the asshole leaned out. He threw something at me, a dress. I looked down and realized it was one of the dresses Becky would wear to valet for him. As the car slowly drove away, he leaned out again and yelled out at me, "I know what you did", and that was it. I didn't go back to BRAWL but I had some numbers for some other girls there and I stuck around New Jersey to try and find Becky, but everyone I called said they hadn't seen her. She wasn't around as a valet; she wasn't even in the building on any night. So what did I do? I left New Jersey anyway and basically never looked back. I came back to Chicago and fucking forgot about her."

Peyton ripped her hand away from Colt's and stood up, letting the cushion she had been clutching slip down to the floor. She began pacing back and forth furiously and chewing on her lip angrily.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?" Colt asked, a little bit of hurt showing through his voice.

Peyton dropped down onto the floor on her knees, leaning back on her heels.

"I'm sorry, Cabbie, I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but how could I? Hey, Cabbie, I made a girl kill her baby and then I abandoned her without a second thought! Yeah, right" she said while wringing her hands, disgust dripping from her voice.

Colt shook his head, "That's not what you did; that's not how it went down"

"He's right, Peyton. You were in a tough spot. I mean, you can't force someone to accept help. You said you wanted to help her sooner but she rejected your attempts. Stop to think about it; do you think she really would have agreed to an abortion if she didn't want to, considering all the time she spent rejecting you before that?" Harlan asked her gently.

Peyton's head dropped, "But still, I left her behind..."

"I'm really sorry about that, but what could you have done? You tried looking for her and you stuck around, you had no real way of contacting her unless you did something royally stupid like meeting up with that asshole" Harlan argued.

"Yeah, and he already threatened you that night at the parking lot" Colt said, agreeing with Harlan.

Peyton sat there, staring down at her hands.

"Who was that guy anyway?" Harlan asked.

"His name was Santiago. Becky once said that he was related to someone in the Latin Kings gang. Man, I didn't even fucking know that kind of shit was going on in New Jersey..." Peyton explained.

"I totally saw a documentary on those guys one time; there's the headquarters in Chicago which rules the Midwest, and then there's some other faction in New York and New Jersey. I think it was called Bloodline or something like that" Colt said, with an inappropriate level of interest in his voice.

"Alright then, History Channel, tone it down" Harlan said.

Peyton looked up at Colt, pointing her finger at him.

"Yeah, yeah! You're right! I remember now, she mentioned the name Bloodline too"

"So basically Latino people are not my favorite people. I know that sounds fucking awful, but seriously, it seems like every time I've been involved with them it's always a bad situation" Harlan said dryly, thinking back to her mother's drug abuse and the match with El Jefe.

Right then, the harsh sound of the doorbell made them all jump. Harlan spoke with the pizza delivery man through the intercom and buzzed him in. She paid and started setting up the plates in the kitchen. Colt and Peyton wandered in to help her; Colt rummaged through the fridge to find drinks and Peyton found the drinking glasses.

They were about to sit down to eat at the kitchen table when they heard shouting outside and glass breaking. Harlan got up from the table and went to the window in the living room. She drew back the curtains and peeked outside.

"Shit, someone hit the lights, quick!" she whispered.

Peyton scrambled up and hit the switch, throwing them into darkness; the moonlight coming through the open curtains their only source of light.

"What's going on?" Colt asked Harlan, voice low.

"Why are we whispering?" Peyton asked with an exaggerated whisper.

"Shhh!" Harlan shushed them, and went back to peeking out the window. She had always complained about the lack of a view in this apartment; the windows faced the parking lot, but in this case she was glad. She could see two men at Ray's car; one guy was breaking every window with a baseball bat and the other guy was spray painting the car.

"Oh great, Ray's going to kill me..." Harlan muttered under her breath. She tried to ignore her racing heartbeat and keep the anxiety out of her voice; she didn't want to scare Peyton.

Harlan could barely make out the men's voices, but it sounded like they were chattering away in Spanish. Once they had wreaked enough havoc on Ray's car, the men ran off in opposite directions.

Turning around she held up her hands, palms out, wordlessly asking Colt and Peyton to keep calm.

"Soooo... Ray's car just got massacred by two random guys I've never seen before. They're probably long gone; I saw them bolt out of here in opposite directions. I'm going to quickly head downstairs to grab stuff from the car and move the car into the garage we never use. If I leave it out there it's not going to make it until the morning, guaranteed someone's going to hotwire the damn thing even if it's now a messed up piece of junk" Harlan said, voice even and calm.

"Give me the keys, I'll do it. If those guys come back, I'll have a better chance" Colt offered.

"Fuck, see? It's probably those Latin Kings guys. Dammit. This is why I didn't want to tell you guys!" Peyton said angrily.

"Guys, let's not assume things or jump to conclusions. Colt, I appreciate the offer but I need you up here with Peyton because IF, and I stress the IF, it is the Latin Kings then she is their primary goal. I don't see how they'd get into this building without a key FOB but I'd rather be safe than sorry." Harlan explained as she walked towards the counter separating the living room and the kitchen, grabbed the keys and headed towards her front door.

"I'll be back soon. I have my phone on me in case you guys need to call" she said as she left the apartment.

As she rode the elevator down to the lobby, her mind raced with countless questions.

_It could be the Latin Kings... What if it is? What are we going to do? What the hell am I going to tell Ray? I've been lying to him enough as it is, to cover for the hours I spend wrestling at The Wrecking Yard... Fuck! Okay, okay, I'll figure something out._

Stopping by the maintenance closet she grabbed a broom and headed out to the parking lot. She stood back and surveyed the scene. Glass littered the pavement around the car.

"Fuck me, it really was the Latin Kings" Harlan said as she read what the man had spray-painted onto the car.

"RAT" and "BABY KILLER" along with some other colorful words were painted across the doors and the hood.

Sighing, she quickly swept the broken glass out of the way. She leaned the broom against the building and hopped into the car. She drove around to where the garages were and hit the button on the remote control. Their assigned garage opened and she drove the car inside. Killing the engine she grabbed a few items from the car and dumped them into a plastic bag she found in the backseat.

Stepping out of the garage and hitting the button to close the door, she turned and walked back to the building. She brought the broom with her and once in the lobby, she put it back in the maintenance closet. She was waiting for the elevator when the reality of the situation finally sunk in.

_Wait...how did they know where she was? First they hit Peyton's apartment and now they were here..._

Stepping into the elevator she did her best not to get too spooked. It wouldn't help Peyton if she lost her nerve.

Finally making it back into the apartment, she walked in to find Colt and Peyton facing her. Peyton looked pale, eyes wide. Colt stood behind her and had both his hands on her shoulders; he was absentmindedly smoothing them down her arms and back up again.

"Well?" Peyton asked in a small voice.

"It was them. The car was spray-painted with some pretty harsh words, all relating to the story you just told us." Harlan said, biting her lip.

"Guys, this is pretty fucked up. I'm so sorry, oh god what am I going to do?" Peyton said, hiding her face in her hands.

Colt wrapped his arms around her shoulders and spoke into her ear, "Hey, hey, don't you mean to ask what WE are going to do? We're not going to leave you alone in this mess."

"Ditto." Harlan said, deep in thought.

"I've got an idea. It's not really a solution but it might get you two out of here and you know what they say... out of sight out of mind?" Colt said, uncertainty marring his usually carefree looking face.

"Shoot, I'm all ears" Harlan said, hopping up on the kitchen counter. Her heart broke at the scene the pair made in front of her; Peyton had turned in Colt's arms and had her face planted in his chest, his hands running soothing circles across her back.

"My best bud is from here and he works in the WWE. I'm not sure if you've heard of-"

"You're not talking about CM Punk are you?" Harlan cut in, mouth open in disbelief.

"No, don't get someone else involved!" Peyton tried to shout, her voice muffled by Colt's chest.

Colt's face broke out in a grin as he patted Peyton on the back.

"Yeah, I'm definitely talking about CM Punk. You have a crush on him or something?" he asked, winking at Harlan.

"No! You can't go two feet in the Chicago wrestling scene without hearing about him. I'll admit that his ink and piercings don't hurt my eyes, but ANYWAY, how is he going to help us?" Harlan changed the subject.

"I'm not promising anything, but the WWE often scouts for talent at the amateur levels and invites them to their training centers. Phil might be able to point them in your direction. It wouldn't be totally random, Harley's been getting a shit ton of attention from the indie sites and papers..." he suggested.

Peyton pushed herself off his chest and stepped back to stare at him.

"Not that I don't appreciate this, but you know how I feel about the mainstream game" she protested.

"I know, but you don't need to wrestle for WWE. You can go as Harley's manager, or don't get involved with the WWE at all. Simply getting out of here might be the ticket you need!" he countered.

Harlan chewed on her lip as she thought it over. She tuned out the bickering of the couple in front of her.

_Me, in the WWE? Seriously? There's no way this will work. I can't be good enough for a WWE training center..._

"Fuck it. Do it; call Punk or Phil, whatever his name is. Let's get the ball rolling." Harlan said.


	11. Six Steps Closer

**_Someone in the World_**

**Summary:**What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood._ Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings: **Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature_ (when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer: **This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

Dean changed out of his Shield uniform and into his jeans and simple black t-shirt. He was sitting on the bench in the Shield locker room, putting on his black boots, when Seth walked out of the showers.

"Hey, man, I've been meaning to ask you something" Seth said while he finger-combed his long dual-colored hair.

"Uh huh?" Dean grunted at him, getting up to close his locker without so much as a glance at his messy short hair in the locker mirror. He didn't even know why he still had that thing.

"On our last break I went home to spend some time with the ol' ball and chain, and you know how chicks can be, she said she was Googling something else and she noticed a suggestion kept popping up below the search box as she was typing, you know?"

After putting on his black leather jacket, Dean leaned against the lockers and raised an eyebrow at Seth.

"We both know I don't care how that crap works, so can you fast forward to the actual question you've been meaning to ask me?"

Seth laughed as he dressed himself, "If you'd only put some time into technology, you'd learn to like it. I swear, you would"

Dean rolled his eyes as Seth continued speaking.

"She asked me who Harlan Matheson was and why I had apparently been scouring the internet for her..."

Dean's blue eyes bore into Seth's head as Seth leaned down to put stuff away into a duffel bag.

"He had to put out quite the relationship fire, so you might as well answer him. Plus, you know he'll keep harassing you about it until you do" Roman's deep voice came from a few lockers down.

"She's a talented newbie out in the Indie scene, that's all" Dean said, trying to downplay it. He hadn't told them about the Canadian girl in the Cincinnati hardcore match.

Closing his locker and slinging the duffel onto his shoulder, Seth stared back at Dean with an amused half-smile on his face.

"And...?" he prompted.

"And what?" Dean snapped.

"I can count on one hand how many times you've used my laptop, and with the remaining fingers I can count how many times you've bothered to follow a female wrestler. Not to make you sound like a douche, but you're only ever interested in girls for one thing" Seth said, smile still in place.

"Maybe I'm interested in this girl for the same thing" Dean offered.

"Not likely. Just tell him the truth and he'll stop" Roman said as he sat on the bench and waited for this discussion to end.

"The big guy is right. When's the last time you Googled a potential one night stand?" Seth asked.

Tiring of the questions, Dean decided to spill the beans about what had happened in Cincinnati. Roman stayed silent but Seth all but bounced off the walls.

"Has the mysterious Dean Ambrose finally developed a romantic interest in a female?" Seth joked around, winking at Dean.

"Stop. Just fucking stop. I'm curious because I've never seen someone do something that stupid, manage to walk away, and actually go back for more. This chick's built herself quite a reputation for how much pain she handles, and she seems to have some natural in-ring ability." Dean said, irritated at Seth's stupid smile and suggestive eyebrow raising.

"Forget it, I can tell you're going to keep thinking whatever you want in that half-blonde head of yours. You guys go ahead and wait in the car, I have to stop by and speak to someone in the admin offices" Dean said as he briskly walked out of the locker room.

The Shield, along with some other fan favorites, had been scheduled for a house show in Winter Park, Orlando Florida - the NXT headquarters. He had been mulling over the idea of speaking to a talent scout for weeks on end; truthfully he still wasn't sure it was the best idea, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Harlan had a lot in common with him. He knew that if she was going at it in the Indies, it could be years and years until her hard work paid off. Why not help her out if he could?

_I had more than enough bad luck while I was toughing it out in the Indies..._

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he reached the doors to the admin offices. He walked in and navigated his way to the talent scout offices. Entering the waiting room he was surprised to find CM Punk sitting and reading a comic-book.

Phil looked up at him and nodded a silent greeting then went back to reading. Dean approached the receptionist and told her he'd like to speak to someone about his recommendation for prospective new talent.

"Funny, it's not every day we get two big-shot RAW guys in here for the same thing" she said, loudly chewing her gum. It reminded Dean of a camel.

"Take a seat, hun, you can go in with Mr. Brooks to save time, okay?" she asked Dean while adjusting one of her giant gold hoop earrings.

He nodded at her and sat down on the opposite side of the room, away from Phil. After a mere five minutes, a guy in a tacky looking suit came out and asked them to follow. The two of them followed the scout into his office and took a seat in the chairs in front of his desk.

"Mr. Good, if you don't mind, we'll start with Mr. Brook's recommendation."

Dean shrugged and slouched back into the chair, but he instantly sat up as he heard Phil's words.

"Harlan Matheson would be a unique addition to the Diva division. Have you heard of her at all during your scouting road trips?" Phil asked the scout.

The scout typed away at his computer and turned the monitor to face Phil. The screen showed a picture of Harlan in a dog collar match.

"I wouldn't be doing my job if I hadn't heard of her. Truthfully, the other scouts and I are not sure if she would be a good fit. We already have Paige in NXT as the resident "bad girl". Between you and me, we're not sure how we'll cross her over into RAW or even Smackdown. Harlan seems to be cut from the same cloth, so to speak" the scout said.

"Actually, I'm here to recommend the same wrestler." Dean said, deciding to add his two cents.

Phil looked at Dean in surprise but opted to not make any comments. The scout raised an eyebrow and put a finger up to his lips, all the while making humming sounds.

"What is it about this girl that's got everyone itching?" the scout asked, more to himself than to the two men in the room with him.

"Her balls." Dean said.

Phil chuckled as the scout looked questioningly at Dean.

"When's the last time you saw a girl that talented and with that kind of pain threshold? If you've really been doing your job, like you claimed you are, you would know she hasn't had a single minute of formal training. Not in high school, not in an official wrestling academy or school. She's made a name for herself completely on her own in the underground Indie circuit" Dean said, sounding extremely annoyed.

"I'm very well aware of all that, Mr. Good, but that still doesn't address the concerns we have regarding her marketability."

"What about Lita? Lita was definitely a fan favorite" Phil reminded the scout.

The scout sighed, "That was before. It's a different time now; we need sexy, in a feminine way."

Phil and Dean rolled their eyes and spoke at the same time.

"I think Harlan is sexy" Phil said.

"What's not feminine about her? Have you seen her body? Doesn't get much more feminine than that, buddy." Dean said, while miming as though he was palming a set of breasts.

The two men eyed each other as the scout contemplated their input.

"I hear you guys, but let's not beat around the bush. You both know what WWE is looking for these days. We want Bellas and Aksanas."

"Don't remind me" Dean said dismissively. He found the entire Divas division to be one huge snore-fest. Wrestlers? Please. More like skanks waiting to be spanked.

"Where is the harm in signing her for a development deal? Bring her in, train her, and throw her into NXT to test the waters. Using your own example, Paige is already in NXT and she's the single most unique Diva on that show. Bring Harlan in to spice things up and give Paige something to work with." Phil argued.

"Who knows, with the two of them working together, it might do your job for you and solve the issue of how to elevate Paige" Dean added sarcastically.

The scout clapped his hands together and nodded his head at the two men.

"Gentlemen, I sincerely appreciate your input and your recommendation. I can't rightly ignore it when someone is being recommended by two of the more popular wrestlers on our RAW roster. I'll compile a file on Ms. Matheson and approach Mr. McMahon and Mr. Levesque. I'll follow up with the two of you regarding the results of the meeting."

The men stood up and left the scout's office, walking in silence all the way to the parking lot. Once outside, they turned to face each other.

"Thanks for your input in there, Jon." Phil said, extending his hand and offering a handshake.

"Couldn't have gone better if we'd planned it" Dean replied, taking Phil's hand in a firm handshake.

They nodded at each other and walked their separate ways. Dean reached the rental he was sharing with Roman and Seth and got into the backseat, dropping his duffel bag on the pile of bags on the seat beside him.

"What was that about, hmm? Conspiring with CM Punk?" Seth asked jokingly from the driver's seat.

"Shut up" Dean said, leaning his head against the window and closing his eyes as Seth turned the engine on and drove away.

_Why did I bother doing this? What if they do sign her..._

* * *

_**A/N: Two updates in one day! YAY! I'm aware of the fact this needs more Dean Ambrose; that's pretty much why I'm popping out two updates in one day. Believe me, I'm itching to reunite Harlan and Dean, but I don't want to make it seem unrealistic or whatever. I guess I'm really anal about back-story and all that jazz. Sorry! Unless my brain takes a detour and finds something else to shove into this story, the next update SHOULD see Dean and Harlan in the same room, at the same time... Oooh! Thanks for all the reviews and the follows. You guys make my day with that stuff ;)**_


	12. My Memory is Cruel

**_Someone in the World_**

**Summary:**What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood._ Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings: **Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature_ (when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer: **This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

Harlan rushed about her room getting ready for her shift at The Roadside Grill. It was a greasy spoon sort of establishment that she had been working at since her and Ray decided to stay in Chicago permanently. She absolutely hated waiting tables; the smile she had to plaster on her face, the small talk and the picky clients – all of it grated on her nerves. But she needed the job; it was near The Wrecking Yard, the wrestling club she had been wrestling in for months upon months. It was far enough from Ray's apartment that it wasn't too suspicious if she had to leave home early or returned home a little late.

She checked her reflection in the mirror and shrugged before walking out of her room, backpack slung over one shoulder.

Walking down the hallway towards the living room she slowed and tried to hear where in the apartment Ray was. She had been trying to avoid him ever since he had blown up at her about his car. He had not been happy to come back home from an auto parts collecting trip with his slob of a boss, Ted, only to find his car demolished by a pair of criminals. She still cringed when she relived that conversation with Ray and it had already been a few weeks since it happened.

Deciding he wasn't home she went ahead and walked into the living room, only to spot him at the kitchen counter. He stood there frozen; she realized he was holding an envelope in his hands.

At the creaking of the hardwood floor, he turned his head to look at her.

"Care to explain this?" he asked her, voice stiff and face devoid of emotion.

She nervously walked towards him and looked down at the piece of mail he held in his hands. The return address read "WWE Developmental Center" with an Orlando street address beneath it.

"Uh...yes, I can explain..." Harlan stammered, her face flushing with guilt.

"I bet you can, and you're damn sure you will. Let's hear it, kiddo" he all but growled at her.

She tried to take the envelope from his hands but he yanked it away from her; he raised an eyebrow and blinked down at her, waiting for her to explain.

Suddenly, she felt anger building up inside of her. Why did she feel like a misbehaving teenager? She hadn't dealt with this crap when she actually had been a teen, so why now? Why now after all she'd been through?

_I hadn't dealt with this crap because I had nobody around who cared..._

She shook off the guilt and held onto her anger.

"What the hell, Ray. That letter is addressed to me!" she said, ripping it out of his grip. She jumped back out of Ray's reach and tore the envelope open. She hurriedly shook out the letter and read it. Her eyes widened in surprise and despite the situation she couldn't help but grin in excitement.

"What? What in the goddamn hell is it?" Ray demanded.

"I've been invited to train at the WWE developmental center in Orlando..." she said, breathless with disbelief.

"You've been WHAT?" Ray yelled at her, making Harlan jump out of her daze and snapping her back into reality.

"How the fuck does that even happen, Harley? You know, I've been keeping my eye on you and I knew something was up, but I kept giving you the benefit of the doubt. I told myself over and over that you wouldn't be stupid enough to get back into a ring; that you wouldn't dare lie to my face day in and day out!" Ray ranted, his huge fist slamming down onto the counter.

Her anger returning and boiling over, she threw the letter at him and it floated down near his feet. Securing her backpack on her shoulder, she said something she instantly regretted.

"You know what? I'm too old for this shit, and just in case you're confused or you forgot, you're not my fucking father!" she yelled at him and quickly strode towards the door. Walking through the door, she turned to close it and caught sight of his face before she slammed it – he looked deflated, as though she had slapped him.

* * *

_**A/N: So this doesn't count as "THE" update. This is just something I'm throwing in to give you all something to chew on. I was planning on staying up and writing THE mother of all updates, but I realized I have to be up for an appointment at the hospital. Barring any unexpected problems with my eyesight (the appointment is related to my left eye and a damaged retina) I should be able to post another update later tomorrow (Oct 15 - so technically, later today...whatever). I am NOT backing out of my promise. Harlan and Dean WILL be in the same damn room in my "mother of all updates" *sigh* Sorry, guys :(**_


	13. EraseRewind

**_Someone in the World_**

**Summary:**What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood._ Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings: **Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature_ (when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer: **This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

"I don't know, Red. I still think you should have waited until you cleared the air with Ray" Peyton said as she held the door open for Harlan.

"It's better this way. We both need to cool off" Harlan replied, her cool tone indicating she didn't want to say anything more on the topic. She wheeled her luggage through the open door and dropped her backpack next to it.

"Alright, if you're sure..." Peyton trailed off, locking the door and leading Harlan to the living room.

The two girls were staying at Colt's for the week. During that time they'd tie up loose ends and by the end of the week they'd fly out to Orlando.

"This is nuts, isn't it? I can't really believe it..." Harlan said, hoping to change the topic as she sat down on the couch.

"I wish it was under better circumstances..." Peyton replied, sitting next to Harlan.

Harlan sighed and reached over to softly nudge Peyton's arm.

"Come on. You're allowed to be excited. Have you decided if you'll be my valet-slash-manager?"

Peyton leaned her head back onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling.

"No" she groaned. Straightening herself she looked back at Harlan. A guilty look passed over Peyton's features.

"Is it bad that I'm basically cringing at the idea of being a valet? I know it's the only option and all of this is my fault... but... Can I say that it sucks giving up wrestling here?" Peyton sheepishly asked. She seemed to almost wince while waiting for Harlan's reply.

"This entire situation with the Latin Kings and Becky is hard to judge. It's a hell of a lot easier to sit outside of it and tell you what you should have done or could have done, but honestly, I don't think anyone truly knows what they'd do until the moment they are put into the same position. So...yeah, you're allowed to say it sucks giving up what you love" Harlan said quietly.

After a moment of silence, Harlan got up and walked towards her luggage.

"Besides, you never know what will happen. I know you're not big on mainstream wrestling, but it isn't unheard of for a valet to turn into a wrestler" Harlan said in an attempt to raise Peyton's mood.

"Yeah, you're right" Peyton said, managing a small smile.

* * *

Harlan looked around the airport, nervously chewing her lip nonstop.

_I thought he'd be here..._

Harlan and Peyton had both given their notices at their places of work and wrapped up anything else that needed wrapping. The tickets had been purchased, one way, and here they were at the airport.

"You're sure he got the note? And the voice mail?" Peyton asked her as she too scanned the area for a tall and burly man.

"Mhmm" Harlan confirmed. Her stomach flipped and her mouth felt dry.

"He's probably running late. Maybe he hit some traffic. Don't worry, babe" Peyton said, voice soft.

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll show up..." Colt said, clapping a huge hand onto her shoulder for comfort.

Suddenly they heard the PA system go off; their flight number was called out. It was time to board.

Harlan hung back and let the other passengers make their way to the line. Next to her, Peyton and Colt said their goodbyes, but she heard nothing. She was completely zoned out, eyes darting everywhere in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Ray's bearded face. She didn't even notice when Colt had to leave.

After several minutes, she felt a tug on her sleeve and looked back. Peyton looked apologetically at her and nodded her head towards the airport staff waiting to check them in.

As Peyton's ticket was checked, Harlan stood behind her and clenched her hands, nails digging into her palms. Her throat tightened and she desperately tried to clear it.

_Not a big deal. I've been alone before, I can do it again..._

As she watched Peyton walk down the tunnel leading to the plane, Harlan handed her own ticket to the airport staff. She didn't even really hear the woman's words; she only saw lips moving noiselessly. As the woman gestured behind her, Harlan numbly walked forward.

"Not so fast, kiddo" she heard behind her.

Whipping around she came face to face with Ray. Slowly she looked up at his smiling, bearded face.

"Didn't think I'd really let you go that easily, did ya?" he chided her, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"I'm sorry..." Harlan managed to squeeze out. She hated that her voice wavered.

"Trust me; I'm the one who needs to be sorry. I'm expecting my trophy for Over Reaction of the Year to arrive any day now" Ray said, looking uncharacteristically shy.

"I'm sorry, but we really need you to board now, Miss" the female airport staff member called out.

Ray glanced at the woman and frowned.

"Listen, I'll make it quick, but uhh... I'm not good at this stuff, okay? I care about you, Harley. I really do. Not every runaway stays at my apartment. I guess what I'm trying to say is... Good luck. You deserve this chance, you really do. You better not forget about me; I sure as hell won't forget about you..." Ray mumbled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

Harlan covered her mouth with one hand; she was at a complete loss for words.

"Aww, hell. I'm sorry, kiddo" Ray exclaimed as he swiftly closed the distance between them. His huge arms wrapped around Harlan. Making sure not to linger too long, Ray let her go.

Harlan awkwardly walked towards the tunnel. Before she was gone from sight, she turned back and waved at Ray. Then she was gone.

A few minutes later, as Ray walked through the airport, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He looked down at the message and read it again. And again. Through blurry eyes he kept reading it, committing it to memory.

_"I always wanted a brother"_

* * *

**_A/N: Hah! I swear I'm NOT doing this on purpose. Somehow, when I sit down to write, it never goes the way I plan and... Good news is, I'm still sitting here typing and I won't stop until I fulfill my promise ;)_**


	14. It Can Never Be The Same

**_Someone in the World_**

**Summary:**What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood._ Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings: **Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature_ (when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer: **This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

The three Shield members lounged around their hotel room. They were on a rare break and so far, they were simply enjoying not having to be anywhere.

"Oh! This is kind of cool" the youngest, dual-colored hair member called out from his bed.

Roman and Dean looked over at each other questioningly, both men shrugging wordlessly.

Seth chewed on a pen cap and continued to stare at his laptop screen. Pulling the cap out of his mouth, he looked up at his stable mates and finally clued them in.

"There's a corporate email announcing a fresh batch of rookies down at the development center."

"So?" Dean asked.

"So... if your girl accepted, she'll be at the meet and greet banquet" Seth replied with a huge grin on his face.

"There's a meet and greet banquet for that?" Dean asked skeptically, ignoring Seth's usage of "your girl".

"The WWE takes great pride in bringing in new talent" Roman explained as he read a book on his bed.

Dean turned back to the TV and kept switching channels. He mulled it over in his head but it always came back to a "No". It would be a stupid idea to go there without even knowing if she had accepted the WWE's offer. Besides, why did he even want to go in the first place?

"Anyone want anything?" Dean asked, as he shut off the TV and got up from his bed.

"Where are you going?" Seth asked him, confusion on his face.

"I need a new pack of smokes" Dean shrugged.

"What about the meet and greet?" Seth prodded.

"I take that as a no" Dean mumbled, walking towards the door and leaving the hotel room without bothering to answer Seth.

After buying his cigarettes, Dean decided to walk around aimlessly. He found himself at the pool; the moon reflected on the water catching his attention. He sat down on a lounge chair and stared out at the water. He pulled out a fresh cigarette and lit up.

Sighing, he finished his smoke and made his way back to the hotel room. As he walked in, he noticed Seth was just hanging up the phone. The younger man looked at him and smiled mischievously.

"What did you do?" Dean asked him, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Seth winked at him. He didn't even need to say it out loud; it clicked in Dean's head.

"Tell me you didn't do what I think you did; fucking tell me I'm wrong!" Dean growled.

"You're not wrong" Roman quietly said, still reading on his bed.

"You're going to need a suit, Mr. Ambrose" Seth said, laughing and quickly running into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

* * *

"Remind me to murder him" Dean mumbled, pulling on his tie. The damn thing had to be more uncomfortable than a dog collar.

Roman chuckled and clapped a comforting hand on his back.

Seth walked ahead of them, absolutely buzzing with excitement. The two watched as Seth cleared their names with the host; they proceeded into the banquet hall and were completely floored. The place was a lot more extravagant than they had expected.

"Damn, WWE knows how to throw a party" Seth said, grabbing a champagne flute as the server walked by.

"How come we didn't get anything like this?" Dean asked. He wasn't jealous or anything, but it was a curious question.

"I think it's more or less for the untrained rookies. The ones whose first school experience will be with WWE" Roman answered.

The place had dim, intimate lighting, and throughout the area there were small, round tables with black tablecloths. The chairs were wrapped in gold. There was a grand chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling. The bar area was peppered with bar-height tables; those seemed to be meant for standing and mingling. There were warm lights, like Christmas lights, hanging at the back of the bar, above the various liquor bottles. More lights were hung along the railing of the staircase leading upwards.

"Right then..." Dean said, feeling awkward already. He walked to the bar and asked for a beer, Heineken, and claimed one of the bar-height tables.

The place began to fill up as more and more people trickled in. The three managed to find faces they recognized and were lost in their conversations when suddenly Stephanie McMahon appeared at the top of the staircase with a microphone.

"I thank all of you who found the time to be here with me tonight. This banquet was my brainchild when we opened the WWE Development Center; I felt it was important to mark the beginning of a new chapter for our new prospects. Even if some aren't called up to the main roster, it isn't a failure. Reaching this level is a milestone for any athlete out there. To those in the room who are veterans, think back to the day you first started wrestling. And now think back to the day you reached the WWE; that feeling, that moment; that is why I felt the need to celebrate. Please, join me in applauding our trainees as they make their way down these steps."

Among the applause, young men and women began making their way down the steps. Dean craned his neck, but he couldn't make any definitive faces out among the crowd.

"Do you see her?" Seth asked him.

Dean didn't answer. He watched as the last trainee made his way down the steps. The room was now a mix; banquet invitees and trainees.

"Bummer, maybe she didn't accept..." Seth said quietly to Roman.

A few beers and more scanning of the room later, Dean decided he'd had enough of waiting around like a twisted male Cinderella. He excused himself and went out back for a much needed smoke break.

"I really should kick this habit..." he muttered to himself as he shook out a cigarette and dug around his pocket for a lighter.

"Damn!" he yelled, patting himself down and realizing he had forgotten a lighter.

"Need a light?"

He turned to his left and saw Her. There She was. Red hair. Gray eyes.

"Do you need a light or not?" she repeated, shaking the lighter at him.

"Yeah, yeah I do" he said, speaking around the cigarette in his mouth.

She chucked it at him and he caught it in one hand. He lit up as she walked towards him and stopped beside him, leaning against the building's brick wall.

"Thanks" he puffed out, handing her back the lighter.

"No problem. I don't even smoke, I just carry this thing around for people like you" she explained, putting it away in the black clutch she held in her hands.

He glanced at her quickly; she looked stunning in her evening gown. It was a long and sleek number; dark green satin, thin straps. Her body language told him she wasn't a fan of the gown.

"If you don't smoke, what are you doing out here?" he asked her, removing the cigarette from his lips so he could speak properly.

She looked at him, a puzzled look on her face, her gray eyes studying his face.

"Do I know you?"

"I don't know; what's your name?" he replied, taking another drag from his cigarette.

"Harlan. My name is Harlan... and yours?" she said, her brow furrowing in thought.

"Dean" he said simply.

She cocked her head, puzzlement still clear on her face. She watched him finish his cigarette and straighten his tie.

Unexpectedly, he offered her his arm.

"I guess we better get back to this fucking thing, right?" he asked, holding out his arm.

Something about him made Harlan feel less wary than she normally would. Hesitantly, she put her arm through his, resting her hand near his wrist.

"Do we have to?" she mumbled, as he led her back indoors.

* * *

_**A/N: Promise fulfilled! :P Don't kill me. I'm bloody tired (It's 4AM). I just really don't want to rush this. I'll hate myself if I get this Dean/Harlan thing completely wrong and screw it up entirely. I hope you all enjoy this little tidbit!**_


	15. Breakdown Playground

**_Someone in the World_**

**Summary:**What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood._ Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings: **Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature_ (when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer: **This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

Peyton glanced towards the fire exit and watched as Harlan walked back into the banquet hall on the arm of a tall man with an intense gaze.

Her interest piqued, she watched as Harlan removed her hand from the man's arm and excused herself; Peyton decided to follow Harlan to the ladies room.

"Pssst, right behind you" Peyton whispered as they entered the bathroom.

Harlan glanced back quickly and rolled her eyes at her friend.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Peyton?" Harlan asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Probably not as much as you are. Do you know whose arm you were on just now?" Peyton asked, leaning forward to check her eyeliner.

Harlan stood in front of the mirror; she felt so awkward in the slip of a dress Peyton had made her buy. She turned this way and that, pulling at one spot, smoothing another spot. Grimacing, she gave up on the dress and proceeded to make a half-assed attempt at fluffing her hair.

"Stop poking at yourself, you look fucking amazing, Red. You have no idea how great your body is. Now, answer my question before I go absolutely nuts" Peyton said, an amused look on her face as she watched Harlan.

Sighing, Harlan replied "He said his name is Dean. I don't know why, but he seems familiar. Have you seen him before?"

With a huge grin on her face, Peyton nodded, "Oh yeah, babe. That's Dean Ambrose. He's part of a major stable right now on RAW and Smackdown"

Harlan blinked her eyes at Peyton, "So he's famous?"

"I'd say pretty damn famous right now, yeah. You've never seen him before?"

Harlan shrugged, "I don't think so"

_But his voice... something about his voice..._

"Maybe you saw him on YouTube without even realizing it, or something. He used to go by a different name in the Indie scene" Peyton said, fluffing it off.

The girls exited the bathroom and made their way back to the bar where they each ordered their drinks. Harlan wasn't one to drink much, or often, but she wasn't completely against it. She sipped her whiskey and coke on the rocks and chatted away with Peyton; suddenly something near the dance floor caught her eye.

A slim blonde woman with a somewhat European looking face was dragging a very unwilling Dean towards the dance floor. She was laughing at him and trying to get him to smile. He was rolling his eyes at her and he was just about to turn back around when a man with half blonde, half brown hair pushed Dean the rest of the way. Catching Dean's hands in hers, the blonde began to move in what looked to be a salsa style. Her flapper-inspired gold dress swayed with her body, the tiers of fabric moving in unison with her fluid movements. Catching her off guard, Dean pulled her towards him, hard, and her body pressed up against his. He snaked an arm behind her, slid a leg between hers, and roughly bent her backwards before snapping her back up.

"Whoa, looks like Dean watched a bit of Dirty Dancing" Peyton commented.

Harlan made no comment and kept watching. For whatever reason, she could not drag her eyes away from the scene before her. Absentmindedly, she gulped down the rest of her drink and slammed the empty glass down on the bar behind her and continued to watch.

Dean and the blonde kept the scene going; the blonde attempted to make it seem like something out of Dancing with the Stars, and Dean countered by roughing it up with his Swayze-esque movements and pelvic thrusts.

Harlan chewed on her lip anxiously and almost didn't notice the man who eased his way beside her. She instinctively moved closer to Peyton and surveyed the man. Peyton glanced over and almost dropped her drink in disbelief. Seeing Harlan's stiff body language, she kept an eye on the man. He nodded his head at Peyton then brought his gaze back to Harlan's face. Harlan noticed he also had piercing blue eyes, much like Dean, but she definitely felt no familiarity and no lessening of her wariness. This man's eyes were almost cold. She quickly took in the rest of him; he had stubble along his jaw, a closely shaved head, and his rolled up sleeves revealed tattoos down his forearms. He was dressed in a dark gray button up shirt, black pinstripe pants, and black tailored suit vest. He wore no tie or anything, instead he left a few buttons open to give a hint of skin beneath. He quietly leaned across her body; Harlan pressed herself against the bar so he wouldn't brush against her. He reached into her empty glass and grabbed an ice cube. The girls watched with a mixture of interest and confusion as he took the ice cube and smashed it hard against the bar; ice chips flew everywhere.

Smirking, eyes trained on Harlan, he said in a low voice, "Now that I broke the ice, would you hold your body against mine for the length of one song?"

Peyton stifled a giggle as Harlan raised an eyebrow.

"Not that I don't appreciate whatever that was, but I'm sorry. I'm not much of a dancer" Harlan replied.

"We don't have to actually dance. We could just enjoy the closeness and warmth of our bodies, and shuffle around pretending to dance" he said, winking at her.

Before she could refuse again, he held out his hand for a handshake.

"My name is Randy, by the way. You would be the lovely yet dangerous Harlan, right?"

Not wanting to be rude, she tried for a quick and impersonal handshake, but he caught her hand between both of his. He held onto her hand a bit longer than she wanted, and when he let go he made sure every inch of his hands caressed hers.

Feeling a bit annoyed, Harlan eyed him suspiciously.

"How do you know my name?" she asked Randy.

Randy shrugged carelessly, "Everyone's talking about you"

"They are?" Peyton chirped in from behind Harlan.

Randy barely glanced at Peyton, "Yeah. Seems our Harlan is quite the rock star"

Harlan tried hard not to cringe at his word choice.

"So, what do you say? Will you keep me warm out on the dance floor?" Randy asked her.

"Actually -"

"Sorry, Orton, but she's dancing with me" said a voice behind Randy. Randy frowned and turned back as a hand clapped him on the back.

Peyton and Harlan watched as a man slightly resembling The Wolverine appeared. He had a lip ring, short and tousled brown hair, and oddly enough he was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt – complete with sneakers.

Harlan recognized him and remembered Colt naming him as his best friend.

"Yeah; sorry about that, I did promise Punk a dance" Harlan said, taking Punk's outstretched hand. Randy didn't even bother hiding his displeasure as the two walked past him.

As luck would have it, the music changed to a slower pace as the pair made their way to the dance floor. Harlan almost changed her mind but Punk winked at her, except when he did it was decidedly less sleazy than when Randy had done it earlier.

Punk carefully placed his hands above her hips, standing at a respectable distance from her. She awkwardly wound her arms around his neck; they swayed slowly and calmly to the slow music as Harlan's eyes darted anywhere but Punk's face. She tried to relax and not completely wig out over the intimacy of a slow dance.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to steal you away like that. Cabana asked me to keep an eye on you two, and I'll be honest, Orton isn't really the kind of guy I'd recommend for any girl. At least, not any self-respecting girl" Punk apologized.

Harlan glanced up at him; she took in his clear olive eyes and his subtle half smile. He seemed honest. She returned his smile.

"You shouldn't be apologizing. I should be thanking you; I'm not sure how that situation even happened, I mean, I don't even know who he is"

Punk laughed, "You've got to be kidding. You don't know who The Viper is?"

Harlan shrugged, "The last time I watched any WWE wrestling, Stone Cold was handing Vince's ass back to him. Other than that, I basically trained myself by watching Indie videos on YouTube and tinkering around at The Wrecking Yard in Chicago"

Punk nodded, "That place doesn't get nearly enough recognition. It's not exactly my scene, but it's impressive nonetheless."

After a short lull in the conversation, Harlan had to ask the obvious question.

"So, Punk, how is it that you get away with a hoodie and jeans at a black tie event?"

Punk chuckled and rolled his eyes, "Ah, it's just something I like to do every so often. Kind of a "fuck you". They're always trying to stuff me into suits and shit"

The two continued their friendly chatter until the song ended. Noticing the absence of Randy, they made their way back to Peyton. She was seated at a table, apparently involved in a heated debate with a goat-faced man. Nearing the table, it sounded like she was vouching for the complete awesomeness of bacon and he was passionately representing Matcha smoothies.

* * *

"Thanks so much, sweetheart. The dancing was fun" Summer Rae said as she made her way back to her table, Dean in tow. Seated there were the other two Shield members.

Dean shrugged, "Not like I had much of a choice. I figured if I had to be out there, I would do it my way"

"Nice moves, bro" Seth said as Dean took a seat and big swig of Heineken.

"You know what they say about a man who can dance" Summer Rae said, jokingly.

"Don't encourage him" Seth groaned.

Dean merely grinned.

"If you two aren't careful, rumors will fly" Seth warned.

"People need to find better things to do than gossip" Roman commented. He knew Dean wasn't interested in Summer Rae that way, and anyone who knew her also knew she had a steady boyfriend. It absolutely annoyed him the way rumors multiplied like rabbits around this company.

"You're right, sugar. But what is a Dancing Queen to do when her man isn't around?"

Dean zoned out and lost track of the conversation as he eyed the people standing at the bar. He spotted Harlan standing with a brunette and...

_What the fuck is that asshole doing over there?_

Dean frowned as he watched The Viper. The body language told him everything; he didn't need to know the words.

_She's out of your league, snake. Take the hint and move on._

Dean smirked to himself.

"What's so funny that you're not even listening to us, sweetheart?" Summer Rae said, snapping her fingers in Dean's field of vision.

Dean resisted a growl and dragged his eyes back to the people with him at the table, "Nothing. What did I miss?"

"I think your show is better, check it out. Punk's got your girl" Seth said, nodding his head towards the bar.

Everyone at the table turned to watch as Punk swiftly stole Harlan away from the cold Viper.

"Sugar, you didn't tell me you had a girl!" Summer Rae squealed, nearly sounding like an excited Chihuahua.

"She's not my girl" Dean mumbled as he watched the pair make their way to the dance floor. His fists clenched on their own as they held each other for the slow dance. He willed his eyes away.

"You're not going to go in there and cut in?" Seth asked him, half joking.

"Nope" Dean said, finishing off his beer. He motioned for the waiter to bring another beer.

Forty-five minutes later Dean was ready to go. He had done his best to avoid glancing over at the general area were Harlan was sitting with her brunette friend, Punk, and Daniel Bryan.

_To hell with this; why did I even come to this thing?_

"If it's all the same to you guys, I'm going to head out for a smoke and probably find myself a dingy bar to top off my night" Dean said as he rose from his chair.

He raised his eyebrow at the protests of his table-mates, "You know I don't actually care what you guys want, right? I'm getting the fuck out of here either way"

He made his way outside through the front door, stopping a few feet from the door to rip a match from the matchbook he had received from the bartender. He lit his cigarette and walked down the sidewalk; not entirely sure where he would end up but not exactly caring. As he walked, he undid his tie and stuffed it into one of his pockets.

_Damn Roman and Seth. You've gotta look classic, Dean, you have to. Whatever._

He had just made it past the parking lot when he heard a giggle to his right. He turned and saw Harlan on her cell-phone; she seemed to be wearing Punk's zip-up sweatshirt for warmth. The night had chilled down since she had loaned Dean a lighter nearly two hours ago.

_What is it with this girl and why does she have to be everywhere I look? Dammit!_

Frustrated, Dean kept walking but almost stopped when he saw Orton saunter out the back door of the banquet hall. He saw Harlan frown and quickly end her phone conversation. She shoved the cell-phone into one of the sweatshirt pockets. She backed up a few steps as Randy approached her.

_She can take care of herself. Orton is her problem..._

Dean kept walking; his pace slowed to a complete halt when he heard her voice get louder.

He turned back to see Randy backing her up against a car; his hands on either side of her body, trapping her. She had both her hands pushing against his chest and she was visibly angry. Randy reached up with one hand and toyed with a few strands of her long auburn hair. Dean felt his pulse quicken as he saw Randy lean down as though to whisper into Harlan's ear.

"I said NO. Get off me!" Harlan yelled as she tried to twist out of Randy's reach.

With a snarl, Dean ran towards them. Before either Harlan or Randy knew what was happening, Dean grabbed Randy by his suit vest and pushed him away from Harlan.

"What the hell, man! What's your problem?" Randy shouted; his face contorted in anger.

"Come on, Randy. Even a dick like you must know that no means no" Dean sneered down at him.

Dean released Randy suddenly, laughing as the Viper stumbled back a few steps.

"Listen, Ambrose. Don't get involved in shit that doesn't concern you. You don't want to do this" Randy said ominously, straightening out his shirt and vest.

"You have no idea what I do or don't want to do. If I do want this, what are you going to do about it, huh?" Dean taunted; a dangerous smirk on his face.

Harlan approached them tentatively, hands out in a gesture of peace.

"Guys, isn't this a bit unnecessary?" she asked. She couldn't believe the two men were mere seconds away from throwing down in a parking lot brawl.

Neither man paid any attention to her.

"Seriously, cut it out!" Harlan shouted, but it was no use.

"You're going to regret this" Randy promised as he ditched the suit vest and threw it behind him.

Dean licked his bottom lip and beckoned to Randy with both hands, "Get over here already!"

Harlan barely managed to jump back out of the way before both men were viciously grappling each other.

With a swift kick to Randy's shin, Dean managed to win himself some space. Using that second, Dean jabbed his elbow into Randy's midsection. Randy grunted and folded onto himself, holding onto his stomach.

"Is that all you've got, huh? Come on. Is that the best The Face can do?" Dean mocked and taunted, jumping on the spot and grinning like some sort of amped up psychopath.

Randy straightened himself up and with a growl, speared himself towards Dean. Both men went down onto the pavement. Dean managed to roll with it, using the momentum; he hovered above Randy and dug a knee into Orton's chest. Looking down at the pinned Viper, Dean continued to shout taunts, all the while digging that knee into him and keeping Randy's arms at bay.

Peyton wandered out of the banquet hall's back door and spotted the commotion.

"What the fuck?" she yelled.

Harlan shouted out to her, "Get help! Quick!"

Shortly, Peyton ran back out with Punk and the other two Shield members. They arrived to find Dean wiping blood off his chin; apparently Randy had landed a hit. Dean stood up and kicked Orton in the ribs repeatedly while yelling obscenities at him.

Roman wrapped his big arms around Dean's shoulders and forcibly moved him away from Randy's prone position on the pavement.

"Come on, man. Stop; you're going to get in trouble with Vince and Hunter if you break his ribs" Roman reminded Dean.

"Get off me, get the fuck off!" Dean protested as Roman overpowered him and continued to drag him away.

"What the fuck happened?" Punk asked; bewilderment was evident on his face. He couldn't give two shits about Randy, but he couldn't really guess as to what could have started this brawl. On paper, The Shield and Orton were on the same side. In reality, Dean didn't talk to many people and kept to himself.

Roman and Seth led Dean off to the side to try and calm him down while Harlan wandered over to Randy.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, as she knelt down to get a closer look at him.

Randy wildly swatted her away, his arm knocking her back and off balance. Harlan fell backwards; unceremoniously hitting the pavement hard.

"Get the fuck away from me" Randy snarled.

"Whoa, whoa, stop it!" Roman and Seth yelled in unison, as Dean tried to break away once again.

"You need a reminder, huh, do you?" Dean yelled at Randy.

"Stop!" Roman roared at Dean, as he and Seth continued to hold him back.

Peyton helped Harlan up and positioned herself between Randy and Harlan. Punk wandered over and caught Randy's arm with his shoe and pinned him there. He stepped down hard on the Viper's arm.

"I don't know what happened, but I can safely assume that it was all because you're a douche. Calm the fuck down and stay the hell away from Harlan" Punk said with a clear, unwavering, and firm voice.

Turning around, he walked with both girls and put some distance between them and Randy.

"Now will you tell me what the fuck happened?" he asked Harlan, Peyton nodded in agreement.

Harlan's face showed her shock and disbelief.

"I-I-I don't even know" she stammered, "I came out here to take a personal call, and then Randy came out and backed me up against a car. He was saying all this crap that was supposed to make me melt into his arms, and he wouldn't give up, so I pushed him back and I raised my voice at him. Literally out of nowhere-"

"Figuratively" Punk interjected.

"Whatever- Dean came running and grabbed Randy by the shirt, pushed him off me. Next thing I know, they're on each other like brutes" Harlan explained.

"You're saying Dean protected you?" Punk asked, skeptical.

"Not that I asked him to, but yeah. That's the gist of it" Harlan said, resorting to her usual sarcasm.

"You should probably thank him because that's fucking weird" Punk mused out loud.

"That's right, slither away like the spineless snake that you are, go on!" Dean sneered as Randy got up and walked off to find his rental car. Randy froze, but didn't turn around.

"Walk it off, Orton" Punk warned, "I'm serious. Don't make it worse."

Randy did his best to saunter off carelessly, but they could all see him holding his left side, where Dean had landed the vicious kicks. He climbed into his car, the engine roared to life, and the tires squealed as he sped away.

Finally, Roman and Seth released Dean from their grasps. Dean, realizing a sleeve had ripped during the fight, removed his black jacket and swung it over a shoulder. They all watched him, unsure of what Dean would say or do.

"What the fuck is everyone doing standing around and staring, like, what, am I entertaining? Is it entertaining that I for once tried to do something nice? Well, fuck all of it. I sincerely hope you all enjoyed the show; I have a date with some booze and I'm going to enjoy it." Dean said, voice loud and confrontational; his free hand gestured in the air as he spoke, emphasizing his words.

They speechlessly watched as Dean walked off, away from the parking lot. Roman sighed and excused himself.

"I'll follow him and make sure he doesn't get into any more brawls" he said before nodding his goodbye and jogging after Dean.

"What's up with Dean tonight, Rollins?" Punk asked the half blonde man.

"I wish I knew; he's been in a funk most of the night" Seth said as he shoved his hands into his pockets and eyed Harlan.

"What?" Harlan said. She had the distinct feeling he was holding something back.

"He'd kill me if I said anything..." Seth hesitated. He really wanted to tell her.

"...if you said anything about what?" Punk prodded.

"Guys, I'm sorry. I really wish I could, but... Look, all I can say is that Dean isn't the sort of guy to get involved in other people's shit. You know that, Punk. He keeps to himself and he avoids drama like the plague..." Seth said apologetically.

"Right...and?" Punk continued to prod.

"BUT things seem different when it comes to Harlan; that's it, that's all I'm saying. Have a good night guys. Catch you later" Seth blurted out, rushing away and pulling out his cell-phone as he reached his rental car.

"What the hell does that even mean?" Punk said, agitated, sharing a confused look with Peyton. Both turned to Harlan but her face mirrored theirs.

* * *

_**A/N: I cannot apologize enough for the delay. Here's hoping this update makes up for it... Does it? To make things worse, I may end up getting employed this week. I'm not sure what that will mean for my schedule; I've been busy as it is with random social events. Trust me, between the social events and writing this story, I much rather be writing this. Alas, one cannot simply be a hermit. THANK YOU for the new followers! Hope this tickles the fancies of all of you :)**_


	16. Territorial Pissings

**_Someone in the World_**

**Summary:**What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood._ Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings: **Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature_ (when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer: **This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

"Soooo…." Peyton trailed off as she laced up her sneakers.

"Yeah?" Harlan replied curtly, pulling on her black capri length yoga pants. She'd been in a distant mood since last night.

The girls were readying themselves in the female locker room of the WWE Performance Center; it was the day after the banquet and it was time for their first training session.

"Any thoughts on what happened last night? You kind of just ran off into your room…" Peyton asked. She knew Harlan wouldn't make this conversation easy. Harlan wasn't one to accept help easily; she didn't appreciate the concept of "being saved". From what she could tell, Ray was the only person who had managed to consistently help her out without stepping on Harlan's toes.

"I don't understand why Dean thinks he can just swoop in and play the knight in shining armor. We don't even know each other. Plus, I had the situation under control" Harlan ranted, face flushing in anger.

"Babe, he was only trying to be decent" Peyton said, trying to reason with Harlan's anger.

Harlan didn't bother replying to that comment; instead, she laced up her shoes and threw her bag into her locker, slamming the door shut loudly.

"Okay…. What about Randy? Aren't you remotely upset about what he did, or rather, tried doing?" Peyton persisted.

"Well, yeah. I'm not exactly happy about him thinking he could just back me up against a car and make a move" Harlan responded, frowning.

The girls moved over to the mirrors to pull their hair back away from their faces. Harlan worked her long hair into a messy bun, and Peyton pulled hers up in a high sitting ponytail.

"So why did you run to Orton's side instead of checking on Dean?" Peyton asked, inwardly cringing at the question that seemed to launch itself out of her mouth.

"First of all, I didn't RUN to Orton's side. Second of all, he definitely seemed to be worse off than Dean" Harlan justified through clenched teeth.

Silence stretched between them and Peyton almost regretted saying anything. Peyton put her stuff away into her locker, shutting the door. She decided to sit on one of the benches in the locker room before speaking again.

"Listen, Red, I hope none of this goes over the wrong way, but it just seems like you're way more pissed at Dean. You should be more pissed at Randy; he was the pervert in all this. What if Dean hadn't shown up?" Peyton hoped she wasn't crossing any lines, but she couldn't stand the thought of what could have happened to Harlan.

Harlan's hands curled into fists and she resisted chewing off Peyton's head.

"Like I said, I had the situation under control before Dean came in all testosteroney" Harlan said, rolling her eyes.

"You do realize Randy could probably fold you in half with one arm tied behind his back? I'm not saying he's rapey, but you have to admit that if he felt like it, he could do some serious damage. Why are you so quick to excuse some horny douche and not a guy who did the decent thing!?" Peyton finally blurted out, exasperated.

Harlan stood chewing her lip before finally taking a few steps closer to where Peyton was sitting. The brunette looked up at her expectantly. Harlan frowned and looked down at her, sighing, equally exasperated.

"I…I don't know, I guess I can sort of reason away Randy's behavior because he's a cocky type of guy who thinks he's God's gift to women, and I honestly didn't feel like he was going to seriously hurt me. But Dean stumps me. I'm not used to people being nice without a hidden reason. It just fucks with my head and I don't like it" Harlan explained.

Peyton gave her a sympathetic look, "Yeah, but you heard what Seth said, and Punk would have warned you off of Dean but he didn't" she reminded Harlan.

"That's exactly my point. Why me? Why is Dean supposedly different with me? How is that even possible? We just met. I only loaned him my lighter!" Harlan groaned, slamming a fist against the nearest locker door.

"Why does it even bother you? You keep mentioning that you don't know each other, so, what could Dean possibly be plotting against someone he just met? You have to admit, even for you, it's a bit paranoid" Peyton pointed out.

Harlan visibly shut down. One second, her eyes seemed vibrant with anger and frustration and a hint of curiosity, but as soon as Peyton asked why it even bothered her, all energy seemed to flow out of Harlan. Harlan's gray eyes seemed just a tad on the cold side and the redhead walked towards the locker room door, leaving the question unanswered.

"We need to get going, Peyton. We can't be late for our first class" she said in a monotonous voice as she walked out of the locker room, leaving Peyton sitting alone on the bench.

* * *

"Alright, my lovelies! Welcome, welcome. First I want to say that it's a pleasure to be working with all of you. I'm sure you each deserve this chance and have gone through more than your fair share to get here. My name is William Regal; I won't be offended if you haven't heard of me" the man said in his British accent, stopping to clap his hands together in excitement as a few ladies giggled at his joke.

"First, I want you all to go around and introduce yourselves. Nothing fancy, just your name and anything else you may want to mention" he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

_Who is this guy? The British flamboyant Santa Claus turned wrestler? _Harlan thought. She absolutely disliked this kind of moment where everyone had to smile and nod their heads and pretend like they were all truly interested in one another. Especially with women, Harlan had learned that it was more likely to be a false pretense than sincerity.

The women all went around citing their names and giving a brief introduction. It was kind of intimidating for Harlan because pretty much every woman in the room had spent years training in some way and dreaming of coming here. She almost started to feel like an imposter among them. Finally it was Peyton's turn.

"My name is Peyton Marie Carver. Now that you've got my full name, don't believe everything you find on Google. I've been all over the US wrestling for various independent groups, but I guess you could say my home is in Chicago. In between trips I would always return to Chicago and I spent most of my time there wrestling on and off for The Wrecking Yard, a hardcore Indie group. They're a great group with a lot of diversity, but they can sometimes be a bit more violent than other hardcore groups. Don't worry, I won't bite" Peyton finished off with a friendly smile.

Harlan glared at the brunette. She envied her bubbly personality and social ease. Suddenly all eyes turned to Harlan and she groaned under her breath. She crossed her arms behind her back and did her best not to seem stand-offish; for whatever reason her resting face always seemed bitchy.

"Heeey. I'm Harlan. Well, Harlan Matheson, Grace is my middle name. I don't know why you'd need to know that… Anyway. I'm actually Canadian; I'm from the Nation's Capital, which is Ottawa in case anyone cares to know… I've been travelling all over the US for almost five years, but I settled down permanently in Chicago a few months ago. I uhhh… I also wrestled in The Wrecking Yard… That's basically the only wrestling experience I have…" She trailed off uncomfortably, not sure if she had said too much or too little.

A few of the women seemed genuinely interested in the fact she had been wrestling for only a few months, but two girls instantly raised their eyebrows and whispered between each other. Finally, one of them spoke up. Harlan thought the woman had previously introduced herself as Kalisha.

"You're seriously trying to tell us you've never done any wrestling before Chicago, and after only a few months you were called in by the WWE?" Kalisha asked with skepticism and sarcasm dripping from her voice. She shrugged and waved her hands towards Harlan in a dismissive, shooing gesture.

Harlan stayed silent and decided not to take the bait.

"Ladies, ladies, thank you for the introductions! We'll be starting today with –", Regal tried changing the subject by moving onto the actual training, but another woman in the group interrupted.

"Wait, I knew you looked familiar. You're the one making a splash on all the Indie mags, aren't you? Hospitalized in Cincinnati and training in Chicago. Yeah, it's totally you, I mean, how many redheaded Canadian wrestlers could there be right now?" Rory asked.

"Well, I don't know about the splash bit, but yeah, the idiotic incident in Cincinnati sure sounds like me" Harlan said dryly, bringing good-natured laughs from the women and Regal.

"That was such an awesome and intense match! Crazy, but intense! You did well, for a complete rookie!" Rory said with excitement.

Harlan noticed the two girls, Kalisha and Amara, rolling their eyes and whispering to each other again.

"Beginner's luck" Harlan said modestly.

Peyton clapped her hand on Harlan's back and Rory offered her a sincere and supportive smile as Regal gathered them up and led them towards the largest work-out area any of them had ever seen.

"Right, moving on to what we're actually here to do; today will simply be a fitness evaluation—"

The women groaned and protested in unison.

"—I know, it's everybody's favorite thing in the whole bloody world, but before you can even step into the ring with me or anyone else, we've got to make sure your body is up for it 100%. So, we first need to gauge which level you're on, athletically speaking, and then we can tailor a regiment for each of you."

First, Regal tortured them with laps around the entire work-out area. He watched each of them running, checking for form and life signs, jotting things down onto his clipboard. Harlan once again felt thankful for the increased stamina her time as a runaway had apparently given her.

Next he had them test their upper body strength on a chin-up bar and monkey bars. Harlan did well enough on the monkey bars but she was more wobbly than she would have liked to be on the chin-ups. She managed to complete the six Regal asked for, but definitely not as smoothly as she wanted.

She released herself from the chin-up bar and turned to rejoin the group, only to find Kalisha and Amara snickering at her. Harlan bit her tongue, counted to ten in her head, and hoped one of them would slip on the bar and break a tooth.

As she waited for everyone to complete the exercise, Harlan retreated into her own head.

_I know Peyton's right about my paranoia… And she definitely hit a nerve by asking why I'm so bothered by Dean to begin with…. Why? Why do I care? And why is his voice so damn familiar?_

"Would the lovely Harlan care to grace us with her attention for one moment?" Harlan vaguely heard in the background, just as Peyton poked her in the ribs with an elbow.

She snapped her eyes up to see Regal staring at her and rhythmically tapping his pencil against the clipboard. Harlan felt her face flush with color.

"Ah, yes, now that we've got your attention, be a dear and come up. It's your turn to do the jump test" he said.

Walking towards him, she murmured an apology once she was beside him. He offered her a kind smile and proceeded to explain what he wanted her to do. There was some sort of pole with a bunch of colored tabs sticking out at the very top. From what he said, she had to jump as high as she could and at the precise moment she reached her maximum height, she had to swat the tabs she could reach with a hand. By swatting, it would fan out the appropriate tabs and it would indicate exactly how high she had jumped.

Considering everyone in the room was easily four or more inches taller than her, with some women completely towering over her, Harlan didn't feel so optimistic about this. Sure, she had strong legs, but being the shortest definitely wasn't going to help her at all.

She crouched down; mustering all the strength she could in her legs, and sprang up. In the air, she reached up and slapped the plastic tabs. Hitting the ground, she felt better due to the mere fact she hadn't landed on her ass or on her face.

"Not bad, not bad. Considering you're the shortest, you'd think you would have the lowest result on this test, but you don't. It's not the best, but we can work on it. It's not a deal breaker." Regal confided in her.

As she straightened up and headed back to her spot in the group, she caught sight of Kalisha. The dark-skinned woman mimed a tear trailing down from one eye and grinned at Harlan. Amara approached her and spoke softly, so Regal wouldn't hear.

"You should just leave now. You ain't got what it takes to roll with us, girl. You don't even deserve to be here. You got your two minutes of internet fame for getting your ass kicked and you think you can just bounce in here? Your cheap violent tricks won't work here, anybody can bleed, mhmm, you better believe there ain't nobody in this room cheering for your fake ass" she said, hissing the S's in her last word.

Harlan looked up at the taller woman and blinked lazily.

"Are you done? Did you get everything off that plastic chest of yours? Do you feel better now?" she asked, feigning interest.

"Bitch, what did you say!?" Amara shrieked, winding up her arm to slap Harlan.

Harlan didn't even flinch or recoil, but before the woman's hand connected with her face, Peyton snatched Amara's arm and held her back.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you" Peyton whispered into Amara's ear.

Kalisha joined the trio, anger radiating off of her, but before the situation could escalate, Regal's whistle cut through the room. The four of them turned towards him. He eyed them with disapproval.

"I would suggest putting an end to whatever is going on between the four of you. Once you're all ready, please join the rest of us on the mats for some core strength tests" he said before leading the other women over to a different part of the gym.

Kalisha and Amara sauntered off instantly. Peyton hung back with Harlan and asked her what happened. Harlan shrugged and downplayed it.

"Don't worry about it. You know how it is sometimes, measuring dicks and whatever" she said stifly, rolling her eyes.

The two made their way towards Regal. He had them split into pairs to complete as many crunches as they could in two minutes. He readied his stopwatch and waited for the ladies to set themselves up; one woman in position for crunches and the other at her feet for support and stabilization.

Peyton finished hers first. Harlan didn't even notice how many her friend had completed; she was lost in her thoughts. Truth be told, Amara's comments had bothered her more than she cared to admit to anyone out loud. She could feel herself succumbing to a foul mood. In her mind, Amara had made some fair points. Harlan felt like idiot.

_Serves me right for traipsing down here all smiley and shit. What the fuck was the WWE thinking? Why did they even invite me? Amara's right, I don't belong here…_

Regal's whistle cut through the room, signaling them to change positions. Harlan positioned herself on her back, Peyton at her feet keeping her steady. At the sound of the whistle, she lost herself in the crunches. She didn't even hear when the whistle went off again.

"Harley, hey! You're good, you're good! You can stop" Peyton said, her loud voice cutting through the fog of Harlan's self-defeating thoughts.

Harlan frowned at her as she finally stopped her crunches. She accidentally kicked Peyton as she tried to get away from the brunette. Peyton scrambled back and looked at her quizzically.

"Very good, Harlan, though I do believe the WWE already has a show off in the form of a bleach blonde man with buns of steel" Regal joked as Harlan made her way to her feet.

Harlan didn't join in on the ensuing laughter; not only did she not understand Regal's reference, but she was starting to lose her grip on her temper. Instead, she spoke up, curtly addressing Regal.

"Sir Regal, are we done here or is there more for us to do?"

William ignored her tone and nodded his head, "There are no more tests for today. You're all expected back here tomorrow to receive your customized fitness regiments and instructions. Now, you're all free to stay and make use of the gym or head over to the showers and locker rooms. See you all tomorrow! Good day!" He nodded at them before making his way towards the coaching offices; he glanced back and frowned at Harlan's retreating form.

Half-way through his speech, Harlan had turned on her heel and left the group, heading towards the door which led to the showers and locker rooms. Peyton jogged after her and attempted to grab Harlan's arm, but Harlan snatched it away.

"Just leave me alone" Harlan snapped, leaving Peyton alone for the second time that morning.

* * *

_**A/N: In reading previous chapters, I realized I made a few errors. Dean is technically the youngest member of The Shield, having a birthday in December as opposed to Seth who has his in May. Also, the center is called Performance Center and not Development/Developmental. I KNEW these things and I somehow still fudged it. I'm pretty sure there are other errors I noticed and forgetting right now, but, honestly, my memory is like a piece of Swiss cheese sometimes (like right now) and I often type this stuff at the god-awful late hours of the night, like 2 or 3 AM, so I hope you can all forgive me and just pretend that in THIS universe, there are slight factual differences. I mean, yeah, it's a Fic so it's aaaaall fair game, right? Haha! ANYWAY, I want to mention one more thing: I'm going to stick with using people's stage names as much as possible. This is just to make it easier for everyone reading, as we're all well aware of their stage names. However, let me break it down: Phil Brooks is CM Punk. Jon Good is Dean Ambrose. Colby is Seth and Joe is Roman. Ummm, Vince is Vince McMahon/Vinny/Vinny Mac (lol) and Paul Levesque is Triple H/Hunter/The Game. I'll make a note in the future for any other dudes with multiple sets of names. I am hoping to post ANOTHER chapter after this one - back to back, yay - but we'll see how it goes. Thank you for the lovely comments and continued interest! I appreciate it so much, you don't even know. Okay, I'll shut up now :)**_


	17. Cut the Curtains

**_Someone in the World_**

**Summary:**What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood._ Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings: **Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature_ (when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer: **This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

Harlan walked into her shared apartment with Peyton, courtesy of the WWE, and dropped her duffel bag beside her bed. She found her camera hidden among her panties and bras, snatched it up, and walked right back out, making sure to lock the door behind her.

She wasn't sure where she would go, but whenever she was in a bad mood she loved to wander aimlessly, snapping pictures of whoever and whatever caught her fancy. She walked and walked and eventually found herself at the street-side shopping district. The colorful booths, the smells from the food vendors, and the sounds of merchants and buskers instantly allowed her to get lost in another world.

Stopping at an alley, she snapped a picture of a stray cat's luminous eyes peeking from behind a garbage bin. Turning, she eyed the various items people were selling near her. She saw jewelry and hand-made purses. Leather belts and custom belt buckles. Catching sight of an old, Native looking woman selling hand-woven blankets, she snapped a picture of her bowing her head as she handed over one of the blankets to a customer.

The street-side shopping district reminded her of the downtown core's marketplace back in Ottawa. Suddenly, she felt a pang of longing and homesickness.

_"Daddy, daddy! Look!" she giggled and shouted, as her father led her by the hand around the marketplace._

_Her father turned to look towards where she was pointing. There was a man performing magic tricks in an open space near an underground parking garage._

_"Oh, I see baby girl. You want to go closer?" he smiled down at her._

_"Yes, yes!" she squealed excitedly._

_The two stopped near the magician and watched the show. Her father looked down at her, his eyes warming at the way she was completely entrapped by the unexplained trickery the man was performing with so much ease. He smiled widely when her mouth dropped open in disbelief. When the show was over, he gave her some money to hold and they walked over so she could drop the money into the man's top hat._

_"Thank you, mister…" Grace mumbled shyly._

_The man bowed to her silently and smiled._

Harlan's cell-phone jolted her out of her memory. She cleared her throat and blinked away the tears that had threatened to form in her eyes. She grabbed her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and glanced at the screen. The name flashing on it read "Peyton". She swiped her thumb upwards on the screen to ignore the call and shoved the phone back in her pocket.

Walking around, she snapped pictures here and there; a young woman laughing as she tried on a ridiculous hat in the shape of a monkey's face while her boyfriend rolled his eyes at her, a harried looking business woman rushing past the booths with a face made of stone and eyes completely missing the world around her, a group of young children with faces pressed up against the window of a shop specializing in homemade candy and pastries.

Finally feeling like she could really use a late lunch, she wandered into a pub named Fiddler's. The hostess seated her, amicably agreeing to Harlan's request of a booth. As Harlan perused the menu, her ringtone went off again. The loud instrumental music of Marilyn Manson's Resident Evil track sounded all around; luckily for her, there were many equally loud patrons in the pub and only a few people nearest to her turned to look at her. She lifted her bum off the seat and grabbed her phone, seeing Peyton's name on the screen again. Sighing agitatedly, she decided to ignore it again but this time, she immediately sent her friend a text message.

_Harlan: I'm fine, don't worry, stop calling. I'm just out with my camera taking photographs and sitting down for a quick bite at a place called Fiddler's. I'll be home soon. We'll talk then._

Turning her phone on silent, she shoved it back into her pocket and continued browsing the menu. After placing her order with the waitress, she eyed the other people in the pub.

_No way…. Is it?_

Rising partially from the booth and craning her neck to get a better view, she looked over at him at the same moment he turned her way. Their eyes made contact; gray with blue.

He smirked and grabbed his drink before walking over to her booth. He stood next to her, looking down, and asked if he could take a seat. Nodding her consent, she moved over to make room for him and he slid in smoothly next to her.

"I've gotta say, I feel pretty lucky to be meeting you here, Harlan" he said in his soft, yet not so soothing voice. There always seemed to be a hint of danger beneath his words.

"Yeah, what are the chances…" Harlan said, at a loss for words. She avoided his face and instead glanced down at his arms. In the dim light of the pub she couldn't really make out the designs; the tattoos seemed to be perfectly intertwined with each other, like some sort of collage on his skin.

"I really need to apologize to you. I know I was a complete ass last night, but you need to know that I didn't mean to hurt you" he said.

She looked up at him, finally, and realized he meant it. His eyes were cast down and his head was slightly bowed. He looked up and met her gaze. She saw real remorse in the icy depths of his eyes.

"I-It's okay, Randy. Really, it is" she stammered. She definitely had not expected him to be the one to bring up this topic, much less apologize without any prompting.

"No, it really isn't. I don't walk around forcing myself on women, and I certainly don't make a habit of hitting women. I didn't mean to knock you down. I have a daughter, for Christ's sake. I wouldn't want anyone to treat her this way when she's your age" he said, grief in his voice.

"You have a daughter?" Harlan asked, genuinely surprised.

Randy nodded his head and pulled out his cell-phone. He showed her a picture of his daughter with her mother. Harlan smiled; she usually didn't really like children, but it was kind of sweet to imagine this rough man as a father.

"My little angel's name is Alanna. She's five. God, how time just rolls by" he mused out loud.

"They're both beautiful, but ummm, where's your ring? You're not one of those guys who takes it off when out at social events, are you?" she asked, noticing for the second night that he wore no wedding band.

Randy shifted and looked abashed, "Actually, we're divorced, as of a month ago. Things haven't been going too hot lately; I guess the crazy schedules and all my bullshit finally caught up to us" he explained.

Harlan flinched, "Ouch. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make light of that"

"It's okay, you didn't know" he shrugged, taking a sip of his beer.

"But, it's okay, you know. Sam and I are actually good with all of this. We know it's for the best, just like it's in Alanna's best interest if her mother has sole custody. Sure, it bites, but c'mon, let's be real. I can't give her the life she deserves. At least this way she has a stable environment and I get to visit and support them as much as I can from wherever I happen to be"

Harlan nodded in agreement. She didn't know why Randy was spilling all of this to her, but she wasn't complaining. It made him seem more human, less of a danger. She wasn't going to lower her guard completely, but she wasn't seeing him as a possible predator anymore.

They continued to chat as Harlan made short work of her club sandwich platter. She found she had more in common with him than she had originally thought. They both liked rock music and barbecues, and they even both liked root beer.

"It's tough finding people like us; everyone else usually thinks root beer tastes medicinal" Harlan joked.

"That's because they've only tried the discount no name crap. You've gotta stick to the good shit like A&W or Stewart's" he laughed.

After the laughter ceased, Randy eyed her and looked like he wanted to ask her something, but changing his mind he shook his head.

"You can ask…." Harlan said, softly. She knew she was taking a huge risk opening up to this guy, especially after Punk had said that no self-respecting woman would involve herself with him, but the way Harlan saw it, she was going to be surrounded by tons of new people now and she couldn't keep acting like a paranoid, tin-hat wearing conspiracy freak.

"What's your story? I know you're Canadian and you haven't had any real training, so how'd you end up here?" he finally asked.

Torn between how much she should reveal, Harlan toyed with her napkin in her lap. Sensing her unease, Randy decided he'd speak up first.

"Okay, maybe this will make it easier. On TV I'm called The Viper, The Apex Predator, The Legend Killer, and some other inflated shit. But, like I said earlier, my bullshit created a lot of friction between Sam and I, and that's because I have more in common with my TV persona than most people realize" he said.

Harlan watched him carefully as he continued speaking, holding her eyes so she'd know he was being completely honest.

"Not a lot of people know that I've had almost any problem you can think of. Drinking, yes. Substances, yes. Anger and behavioral, yes. I even spent time in a military jail once for disobeying orders and going AWOL" he said, a tinge of shame marring his handsome features.

"I'm not a prince, Harlan. A lot of women look at me and they see me in one of two ways; either I'm a bad boy they want to fool around with because it's thrilling, or I'm a dangerous asshole who should be avoided. I won't lie, I don't do anything to discourage either view, but even though I'm not a prince, I'm not such a bad guy. I make mistakes, bad ones, but I realize them after and I make amends. I'm doing what I can to get better, honestly" he said, finishing up with a ta-da gesture with his hands.

Harlan thought over his words and realized he was right. Their chance encounter here was living proof. While she may end up regretting this in the future, she felt that it was only fair.

"I uhh, I left home when I was 18. From Ottawa I went to Niagara Falls and spent around a year with some high school buddies down there while they attended college. Eventually, I applied for a US work visa and held a job at a manufacturing company putting together parts on an assembly line in Wisconsin. I made enough to rent a shitty, broken down trailer…" she said, stopping to catch her breath. Saying this stuff out loud to him was giving her a slight anxiety attack, but she was determined to get it all out.

"Take your time" Randy said, giving her an encouraging smile.

Taking a deep breath, she continued.

"I ended up homeless when the contract at the manufacturing company ended and the money ran out. My work visa expired and I basically went nomadic just to stay ahead of any nosy police officers and to keep myself out of trouble. I think I was homeless for something crazy like almost a year, maybe more, but I ended up in Chicago and found Ray…"

Randy motioned for the waitress and whispered to her, asking her to bring Harlan a glass of water.

"Ray's like the brother I never had. He took such good care of me even though I was a complete and utter pain in the ass. I don't exactly make it easy for people. I resisted and pushed away, but he never gave up. We spent four or five years on the road and he even let me move into his Chicago apartment. The time on the road was my favorite. It was amazing; we'd go to all sorts of events. Boxing matches, concerts, illegal car races, wrestling matches, mixed martial arts. Anything that needed a guy at the door to check tickets or keep people in line, he was there, and I'd be around tinkering with my camera and making small earnings with the sales of developed pictures…"

The water arrived and Randy gently handed her the glass. Harlan graciously accepted the water and took a big gulp. She timidly smiled at Randy before continuing.

"Anyway, one day in Cincinnati we were at a crazy hardcore wrestling event. It was a Fans Bring the Weapons match and I somehow ended up getting mistaken for a female wrestler. I was too stupid to haul my ass out of there, and I actually participated in the match. I had zero training whatsoever but I've been told I wasn't so bad" she shrugged, "Still, I ended up in the hospital with a concussion, stitches down my arms and on my skull, and countless deep scratches on my palms and back"

At this point, she rolled up the sleeves of her hoodie and showed him the scars along her arms. He looked down at the jagged scars, some criss-crossing but most of them running along the entire length of her forearms.

"What caused those?" he asked her.

"Kendo stick wrapped in barbed wire, same as these" she said, turning her palms up for him to see. He visibly flinched. "I have some scratches on my back from thumbtacks, but most of the scars on my body are from the barbed wire…."

"Jesus, you really took a beating" he commented.

"Yeah, that's pretty much why this side of my head is shaved. I mean, initially it was because of the injury to my head, but now I just like keeping it shaved on that side. The hospital had to do it in order to relieve the pressure from internal bleeding and to stitch me up. The guy had apparently rammed a chair down onto my skull, vertically. He didn't slap me with it like you'd normally expect" she explained, nonchalantly.

Randy feigned fear and held up his hands in a defensive stance, "I'm pretty much never going to get on your bad side again because clearly you're a total fucking badass to have walked away from all that"

Harlan laughed, albeit a bit bitterly. She had been lucky, she knew that. She always tried to downplay the incident, probably because in hindsight she really had been a complete moron to do it, but also because the idea she could have died really took the wind out of people's sails.

"Seriously though, after all that you decided you'd become a wrestler, and a hardcore one at that?" Randy asked incredulously.

Harlan's face broke out in a huge grin, "Crazy, eh? What can I say? After the initial shame from my idiocy wore off and injuries stopped stinging, I realized it had been such a fucking rush to be out there" she said in a breathy voice.

Randy nodded knowingly, "It's the best feeling, isn't it?"

"It really is. I was hooked on that feeling, so I spent weeks and weeks watching YouTube videos of independent wrestling, wishing I could learn to be like the guys in those videos. Eventually I found The Wrecking Yard in Chicago and, yeah….Somehow I ended up being invited here just a short while after that" she said, finishing her story and taking the chance to drink some more water.

"You're my kind of girl, Harlan" Randy whispered.

"Pffft, no I'm not. Between my temper and yours, we'd murder each other" Harlan joked around.

"You have a bad temper? I don't believe you" he said.

Harlan merely pointed at her hair, "I'm a redheaded Scorpio…."

"Sounds like you're the perfect woman to put me in my place" he said, smirking at her.

Harlan rolled her eyes and waved the waitress over, asking her to bring the bills. Despite Randy's attempts at paying both bills, Harlan insisted on paying for herself. Leaving the pub together, they had walked a short distance before Randy broke the amicable silence. The sky was darkening and Harlan realized just how much time she had spent in there with Randy.

"It must have been tough for you, living on the streets for as long as you did…." He said quietly.

She looked up at the tall man but he wasn't even looking at her. His face held a far-off look to it, as though he were thinking of something, or someone, else entirely.

"It sure was. It definitely gave me a whole new appreciation for soap and water, let me tell you" she said lightly, trying to break the weird mood he seemed to be in.

"I haven't shared this with anyone around here, but… I have a younger sister and she's been missing for like five years now. Technically, she hasn't been missing the entire time. A few years ago we started receiving post cards from her. It looked like she'd joined the world of independent and underground wrestling in some way. She was always so fucking vague, never mentioning names... At first we weren't convinced they were really from her, you know, could have been some twisted bitch of an anti-fan trying to stir shit, but a PI managed to track her down once. Unfortunately, the fucking guy missed her by a few hours, but witness reports he brought back confirmed it was her by the descriptions. The post cards stopped sometime early this year, and, I don't know, I guess I'm just hoping she isn't living on the street somewhere" he said, his face never losing that lost and dazed look.

"I'm so sorry, that must be damn tough on you and your family" Harlan sympathized.

"Yeah… Part of my family has written her off, basically. It sounds fucking horrible, I know, but this has been going on for quite some time now and some were never convinced it really was her sending those post cards. I guess it's easier for them to assume she's gone but… I can't. I just can't…" he said, his voice breaking slightly. He coughed to cover it up and shook his head to clear out the depressing thoughts.

He looked down at Harlan and gave her another of his rare, sincere smiles.

"In a way, I think this might be the best night I've had in a long time, and neither of us had to lose our pants"

"Wow, you're welcome? That's a messed up way of saying Thank You, Randy" she said, eyebrow raised.

He laughed, but quickly sobered up.

"I mean it, Harlan. Thank you for telling me your story, and for hearing me out. There's more I want to know about you, but I'm not going to be a dick about it and push you. I don't plan on going anywhere. I'll prove to you eventually that you can trust me" he said, his eyes showing the intensity of his words.

She was at a loss for words, so they continued walking in a comfortable silence. Without her even realizing it, he had allowed her to take the lead in their walk. She gasped when she noticed how dark the night had become and that they were within view of her apartment.

"Good lord, I didn't even realize where I was going, or how late it is. That building up ahead is where I'm staying with Peyton, the brunette from last night" she explained as they walked.

Randy smirked, but quickly took a step back as they finally approached the front door to her building.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask to come upstairs and see your place. I'm not going to ruin this night"

Harlan laughed, "Good! You're learning. Maybe it isn't such a bad idea for you to spend more time with me"

"I'd really like that" he said, his eyes darkening.

"No, no, get that mind out of the gutter" Harlan groaned as she turned to slip her key into the lock. Opening the door and wedging a leg to keep it from closing, she turned to look back at him.

"Have a good night, Harlan. Don't be a stranger" he said, winking and walking away.

She turned back and walked into the building, the door closing and locking behind her. As she walked towards the elevator, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Assuming it was Peyton again, she reached back into her jean pocket and grabbed for it, nearly ignoring the call again. Flashing on the screen this time was Ray's name.

"Hey! What's going on?" she answered cheerfully.

"Miss Matheson?" asked a strange, yet polite female voice on the other end.

"Umm, yes. Who is this?" Harlan asked, frowning.

"This is Constable Stevens from the Chicago Police Department. I'm calling to let you know that your caretaker, Raymond Forrester, has been brought into the station for a few questions" the officer said in a calm and cool voice.

"What? What do you mean? What happened?" Harlan asked, completely caught off guard.

"Not to worry, Miss. Mr. Forrester is not under any suspicion whatsoever. We're simply asking him a few questions regarding the break in of his apartment" the office explained.

"Break in? When?" Harlan stopped to lean against the wall next to the elevators. None of this was making sense to her at the moment. "Is Ray okay?" she asked the officer.

"The break in occurred today, just a few hours ago. Mr. Forrester called us in and we've taken him into the station as a precaution and to have him answer a few short questions. We have reason to believe there is gang activity involved in this situation, and I felt it would be proactive to keep him safe. He has no injuries at all, Miss" Constable Stevens said. She wasn't entirely unkind, even if she was on the brusque and detached side of the line.

Harlan breathed a sigh of relief, "Would it be possible to speak to him?"

"One moment; Mr. Forrester is occupied in the men's room" the officer replied.

After a moment, Harlan heard some shuffling and finally Ray's thick voice came on the line.

"Kiddo, hey, sorry to scare ya this way. I know it's a lot to take in" he said, sheepishly.

"Fuck my new white hairs, how are you? What's going on? Mrs. Roboto there kind of explained a bit of the situation" Harlan said, anxiety seeping into her voice.

"Relax, it's okay. I came home from work to find the place trashed. There was spray-paint on the walls in the apartment, some really dark shit about knowing what "she" did and having eyes everywhere. It reminded me of the crap that had been painted onto my car, so I called the cops" Ray explained.

"You're fine? You're not lying?" Harlan pressed.

"I swear, I'm fine! Geez, kiddo. Florida has made you antsy" Ray joked around.

"I'm going to try and get out there to Florida sometime soon, Harley. The cops think I should steer clear of Chicago for now, and I might as well use this as an excuse to stalk you at your new stomping grounds" Ray said, chuckling.

Relief washed over Harlan. She might not express it, but she held the big guy near and dear to her heart.

"Sounds fine by me, stalk away!" Harlan replied. They finished up their conversation and he promised to call again once he ironed out the details with the police. Harlan put away her phone and pressed the call button for the elevator. Entering the elevator, she pushed the button for her floor and waited as the lift took her up. Ding! The doors opened and she walked out, taking a left to go down the hall until she reached her door. She slipped her key in and walked into her apartment. Peyton laid in bed, in the dark, the soft glow of the TV the only light. Harlan could see that the brunette was fast asleep.

Quietly, Harlan turned the TV off using the button on the set itself. She carefully walked over to her own bed and clicked on her bedside lamp.

After completing her night time ritual and dressing down into an old Nirvana t-shirt and her panties, she crawled into bed and switched off the light. Peyton's soft breathing was the only sound, and soon, the soothing rhythm lulled Harlan into a deep sleep.

* * *

_**A/N: I'm an idiot. YES, I know Seth is actually the youngest of the group. GROAN. What can I say? I felt the urge to double check the information I already knew and when I re-read their birth dates, my eyes became really douchey and I read Seth's date wrong. Judging by the reader response to that last A/N, I'm going to try relaxing on the nitpicking I do to myself. I'll trust you all to point out any mistakes and to steer me in the right direction! SO YEAH, this new update! I'm planting some seeds that will be growing and crashing in the near future. Not to worry. More Dean/Harlan to come. That's the whole point of this story, lol...I swear...it is... :)**_


	18. Swallowed in the Sea

**_Someone in the World_**

**Summary:**What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood._ Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings: **Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature_ (when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer: **This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

_She watched as the old Mexican lifted the chair and brought it down towards her, vertically, intending to ram the rounded edge of the chair straight into her skull. A blinding, searing pain washed over her as the chair struck her and bit into the side of her head. Warm liquid oozed down onto her face and her entire body buzzed with a jolting wave of pain. Unsteadily, she raised her hand slowly and touched her forehead, where the liquid was starting to drip down from, threatening to obstruct her vision even more. Rubbing some of the liquid off her forehead, she brought her hand down in front of her and through blurry vision she caught the fuzzy image of something red staining her fingertips._

_"Uhhhh, blood…" She groaned as her vision blacked out and returned and blacked out again in a pulsing, slow beat. She realized her vision was waning in time with her own subdued heartbeat._

_She fruitlessly tried to move but a sharp pain pierced her head, making her cry out. Her vision became spotted as a wave of nausea hit her. She hoped the pain would lessen, but it only seemed to get worse as the seconds ticked by._

_Without a choice, she lay there bleeding, choking back the waves of nausea which threatened to overtake her. She resisted crying, but a few tears escaped her clenched eyelids; she had never experienced such excruciating pain. Her skull felt like it was cracked open down the side, and she had an irrational fear of touching the injury because she thought she might touch actual brain matter._

_Her legs felt like she'd been sitting on them too long. The prickly pins and needles sensation washed over her entire lower half. She tried to move her leg, but that brought a jolt of pain from the back of her skull; the pain speared down her neck, her entire body protesting to any sudden movements. Slowly but surely, she managed to slightly wiggle her feet._

_Oh thank god…_

_A sudden fit of coughs brought her into a new wave of pain, this one blacking her out for more than a mere second._

_When she regained her vision, she realized someone was hovering over her._

_The smell of cigarettes and mint wafted down to her. She tried to look up at whoever was with her but her eyes would only roll back into her head and her eyelids felt heavy._

_"W-w-who…" She tried speaking, managing only to mumble a single word._

_"Don't try speaking. This is going to hurt, sunshine, but try to hold on" the deep voice said._

_She cried out in pain as the man moved her around, putting an arm behind her knees and another behind her neck. She screamed as the movement put pressure onto her neck._

_"I know, I know. Just hold on, I'll get you out of here" the voice said. The voice with the soft Cincinnati twang._

_Losing consciousness again, she became lost in a dream – a memory. Another wave of nausea brought her back to reality, and she fought against the fog, desperately trying to wake up._

_"You're going to be okay, take it easy, don't wake up too quickly" the deep voice said._

_The pain. The blood. The nausea._

_The cigarettes. The mint. The voice._

_The voice…_

Yawning, Peyton massaged her neck. Falling asleep on the couch was never a good time. She had hoped to catch Harlan before bed, but apparently her eyes had had other plans.

She stood in the kitchen, watching the coffee drip down into the pot, when she heard the muffled groans. Worried, she wandered out of the kitchen and into Harlan's bedroom.

She saw Harlan tossing and turning wildly, caught in a nightmare. Cautiously, she approached Harlan's bed and shook her feet.

"Hey, Harley, wake up" she said, shaking the redhead's feet again.

With a loud gasp, Harlan bolted upright, eyes wide, a hand covering her mouth.

"Babe, you're crying!" Peyton exclaimed, noticing the trail of tears on Harlan's face.

Gulping, Harlan nodded and wiped away the tears.

"S-sorry, I was having a nightmare…" Harlan said, feebly.

Slowly, Peyton took a seat next to Harlan and smoothed away the redhead's messy hair away from her pale face. She had never seen Harlan so distraught.

"It was… It was the night El Jefe slammed the chair down onto my head. I could never fully remember what had happened until… Until now" Harlan explained; her voice was still thick with sleep and something else, something close to panic but not quite.

Peyton made a surprised sound and gave her a sympathetic look.

"Are you okay? Stupid question, I know, but you know what I mean…" the brunette asked.

Clearing her throat, Harlan nodded "Yeah, yeah. It was just insane reliving that moment. When it actually happened I was too hazy to really FEEL the chair hitting me, you know? I was really out of it…"

The girls sat in Harlan's bed quietly. Peyton didn't want to push Harlan, but she didn't want to leave until she felt convinced that the redhead would be fine.

She watched as Harlan closed her eyes and ran her hands through her hair. Opening her eyes again, Peyton was glad to see that she looked more composed and focused. She had lost the wild, distraught look. Harlan covered her mouth with both hands. She seemed to stare fixedly at nothing in particular and then her brows came together in a deep frown.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours…?" Peyton asked her softly.

Still frowning, Harlan turned to look at Peyton. Her gray eyes held a deep questioning look and a hint of uncertainty. Uncovering her mouth and locking her arms around her blanket covered legs, Harlan decided to speak.

"This is going to sound crazy… but I think I figured out why Dean seems so familiar"

* * *

_**A/N: Bahaha, another teaser. Looks like our Harlan is finally connecting the dots! Will she believe it, or will she psyche herself out it? What will she do with the new knowledge? Where is Dean and what will The Authority have to say about his scuffle with The Face of the WWE? DUN DUN! All that and more in the next installment of...this FIC... Oh, yeah, BTW, in case this gets read by some legal team or something: I do not own Sam (Randy's ex-wife) or his daughter, or his younger sister. Those are real people which I am not affiliated with in any way, I am simply taking a few creative liberties. I am not making money off this. Most of the facts regarding his life and divorce are as correct as Google can make them out to be. SO. YEAH :)**_


	19. Bullet and the Bullseye

**_Someone in the World_**

**Summary:**What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood._ Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings: **Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature_ (when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer: **This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

It had been two days since the banquet and Dean was still in a funky mood. He had received a call from Mr. Levesque's assistant asking him to drop by the admin offices for a quick chat. Dean was no fool; he knew it would be more than a quick chat and he knew precisely why they wanted to see him. He wouldn't be surprised if that dick would be there as well.

Grunting, he put down the weights he had been lifting and toweled off his face. Sanitizing the area, he finished up and left the gym, heading towards the showers. Once in the locker room, he stripped off his sweaty workout gear and threw it into his duffel bag, not bothering to fold any of it. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he walked over to a shower stall, hung his towel on the outside hook and drew shut the plastic curtain. He turned on the water and tested it until it was bordering on the hot side; steam rose up as he stood with his head thrown back, feeling the water as it ran down his naked body. The water beat down on him, massaging his muscles. He groaned as his muscles relaxed and some of the tension eased away. Keeping his eyes closed and his head thrown back, he thought back to the night of the banquet.

_Why didn't I tell her I knew who she was, that I had been there at that shitty Cincinnati ring?_

"Fuck!" he swore out loud, opening his eyes and blinking away the droplets on his face. He washed himself quickly, knowing he had to get to that meeting. He was about to shut the water off when a string of thoughts hit him. He paused and leaned his head against the wall in front of him. The warm water cascaded down his back as he stared down at the shampoo and soap spiraling down the drain.

_I'm the one who helped her out – twice – and I get shafted while Punk and that asshole chat her up! Why do I even care?!_

He growled in frustration and punched the wall. Closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths, he straightened up and shut off the water. He reached for his towel and dried himself off, wrapping it around his waist once again. Reaching his locker he quickly dressed and grabbed his bag, leaving the locker rooms to head over to the admin offices.

He made his way over to Hunter's office and checked in with the assistant. Sure enough, a few minutes later, The Viper waltzed in. The two men sat at separate ends of the room, glaring at each other. The receptionist, an older woman with curly graying hair, shifted uncomfortably in her seat and kept an eye on the two. Smirking at The Viper, Dean reached over and calmly grabbed a Sports Illustrated magazine. He sat there, casually flipping through the pages, not giving two shits about the tattooed man on the other side of the room.

"Umm, Sirs, Mr. Levesque will see you now" the older woman said nervously, getting up from her chair to waddle over to a door which she opened and held for them, gesturing for them to walk through it.

The two men eyed each other. Dean shrugged and sauntered through the door first. It was an underhanded jab at Randy.

Randy clenched his hands at his sides and resisted kicking the younger man in front of him. Entering Hunter's office, they had no choice but to sit side by side as they waited for the COO to join them.

"Hello, gentlemen, thank you for joining me on such short notice" the gravelly voice of Triple H emerged from behind them; the sculpted, broad shouldered man with a closely shaved blonde head and a well trimmed, short and tasteful beard lining his jaw made his way to his desk, sitting down and eyeing the two men. The expression in the COO's eyes was none too pleasant.

Hunter folded his hands in front of himself, toying with his wedding band. He cleared his throat and looked from Dean to Randy.

"I imagine you both know why you're here, so I won't make this any longer than it needs to be. It was brought to my attention that the two of you were involved in a parking lot brawl, and not just any parking lot, oh no, it had to be the parking lot at the celebratory banquet for the new WWE developmental recruits which my wife personally organized" Hunter said, with a disbelieving smile on his face; a smile which did not reach all the way up to his hazel eyes.

The two men knew better than to interrupt him; they sat in silence and allowed the veteran to continue speaking.

"Quite frankly, I don't need to know, and I don't care to know, the reasons behind that brawl. What I do need to know is whether or not you've both expunged all that from your systems and can move on. So, let's hear it" he finished off, crossing his arms on his desk and leaning forward, an expectant expression on his face.

"I can say without a doubt that I've dealt with the cause of the brawl" Randy said, glancing at Dean and gesturing for him to speak up.

Dean's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he stared intently at Randy.

_What the fuck is that supposed to mean?_

Rolling his eyes and dismissively waving Randy off, Dean turned to Hunter with what he hoped would be a sincere expression on his face.

"I've got zero problems over here" Dean said with a self-assured smirk.

Hunter stared intently at them both, calculating and gauging their sincerity.

"Let me be clear about this; Right now you're both damn lucky that you have such strong and important story lines. If it weren't for how much time we've invested in those story lines, and how connected they are, we wouldn't hesitate to pull the plug and send you both on an extended break without pay. That doesn't mean we won't consider doing that if this kind of crap continues. You guys can have whatever problems you want; hell, we can't force you to be best buds, but keep things private and civilized. At the very least, don't have a brawl in the parking lot of a prestigious WWE event" Hunter warned them.

As both men nodded their agreements, the COO dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

The two men made their way out of the admin offices and out of the Performance Center. Dean stopped a few feet from the main doors to shake out a cigarette and have a smoke. Randy turned back and called out to the younger man.

"I'll be sure to tell Harlan you said hello" he taunted, a satisfied smirk planted on his face.

Dean froze with the cigarette halfway to his lips. He crushed it in his hand, the stick folded in half and cracked, grains sifting down to the pavement from between his clenched fingers. Speechless as the wave of anger boiled over him, Dean could only watch as Randy walked out towards the parking lot.

* * *

_**A/N: I thought I would write more in this installment, but I'm pressed for time as I have yet another social event to attend. Fuck being social, am I right? I should get a tablet and do my typing anywhere I go, no matter where I am... CHRISTMAS IDEA! Or at least a new internal battery for my laptop so it can actually stay on for longer than 30 minutes without the power cord. I would like to write some more later tonight; no promises though as I have to be up early for tomorrow's job orientation. YAY, I am finally a member of the employed masses. Enjoy, catch you all later :)**_


	20. The Hunger

**_Someone in the World_**

**Summary:**What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood._ Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings: **Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature_ (when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer: **This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

**A/N: Warning! This chapter contains some slightly M-rated stuff. If you're not comfortable, I would suggest you skip the beginning of the second part (you'll see a paragraph completely ****_italicized_****)**

* * *

A little over a week had passed since Harlan had realized why Dean seemed so familiar. Normally, Peyton would have been ecstatic, seeing it as an undeniable act of "fate" or "destiny", but in this case she was decidedly miserable. Harlan had been a moody wreck of a roller coaster ever since she had connected the dots. She sometimes spent hours completely lost in her thoughts, apparently going over things in her mind, over and over and over again.

Harlan held a book in her hands, supposedly reading it, but she had been on the same page for the past 15 minutes. Although she sat there staring at the page and she could "see" the words, they remained completely unread as she retreated to the thoughts rolling around in her head.

_Should I try finding him and talking to him about it? But he didn't even mention it that night at the banquet. He blatantly made it seem like he didn't know me when I asked him point blank if we had met before…_

_What the fuck is wrong with me, I mean, why am I even obsessing over this? Why does everything about him get to me so much!?_

Eyeing the redhead beside her on the couch, Peyton sighed and checked her watch. Ray was finally arriving today and she could not be happier about the timing of it all. He would be safer here AND it would be a welcome distraction for Harlan.

"How was class with Regal today?" Peyton asked Harlan, hoping to rouse her from her thoughts.

Groaning, Harlan stretched out on the couch and dropped the wrestling rules and regulations handbook she had been pretending to read onto the nearby coffee table.

"You are so lucky you had promo class today. I had to practice basic grappling with Amara and I swear, she kept screwing it up on purpose just to make me look bad or to try and break my arm" Harlan said, rolling her eyes.

"You know those two bitches are simply speaking out of their asses because they're jealous of you, right?" Peyton said bluntly.

Harlan shrugged. They'd had this discussion already and she knew Peyton was right. Jealousy or not, Harlan knew that this wouldn't be the first time she'd face adversity. She couldn't let it get to her like it had that first day of class.

"Trust me, I can't wait to get to the submission moves or shit I don't really know like back breakers, moonsaults, you know, the fun stuff." Harlan joked. She was already damn good at submission moves, but she had never done much in terms of high flying maneuvers or high impact throws.

"Is it bad that we're looking forward to that so much?" Peyton laughed. Since she was more experienced than Harlan they didn't always share the same schedule. She was practicing her mic skills while Harlan had to start from the basics. Regardless of that, Peyton had asked to be included in the more intermediate lessons, not really because she needed it, but because she wanted to be involved in Harlan's learning. Plus, it totally wouldn't hurt to watch her lay out those two bullies on their backs.

The sound of their buzzer rang out and Harlan broke out in a huge grin. She hurried to her feet and ran to the intercom beside their front door.

"Who is it?" she spoke into the speaker, stifling a giggle.

"You know who it is!" Ray's thick voice laughed through the intercom.

Buzzing him up, she stood waiting next to the door. Peyton smiled fondly at the redhead; it was definitely nice to see her so upbeat again.

Hearing a knock on the door, Harlan opened the door and held it open for him.

Ray looked her over and frowned, "Aren't they feeding you here?" he barked.

As Ray walked through the open door, Harlan punched him on the arm.

"Gee, thanks. You're looking mighty swell too" she said sarcastically, closing and locking the door behind him.

Wheeling his luggage over to the couch, he smiled at Peyton.

"Hey girly, it's nice to see you again! How's Florida treating you?" he asked her.

Getting up from her seat on the couch's arm, she approached Ray and held her arms out.

"Come here and give me some love, big guy" she said, winking at him.

Rolling his eyes, he obliged and wrapped his big arms around the tall brunette.

"Seriously, how has it been going for you two?" he asked again as he took a seat on the couch.

Harlan wandered back into the living room from the kitchen and handed Ray a mug of coffee.

"Oh, you know… The standard stuff; meet new people, avoid said new people, try not to get into any trouble" Harlan said with a huge grin on her face.

Ray chuckled, "Speaking of trouble, I see you've kept up with that god awful Kesha hairstyle"

"Ray, your age is showing" Peyton chirped.

"This style is actually hip and happening" Harlan said, feigning hurt.

"Hip and happening? And I'm the old fashioned one in the room" Ray said teasingly.

After Ray settled his things into the spare bedroom, the girls decided to head down to the Performance Center to give him the grand tour. Driving into the parking lot they were surprised to see more cars than they expected to see on a Saturday evening.

Walking through the main entrance they noticed staff members were running around all over the place, speaking hurriedly into headsets and setting up various items here and there. Peyton and Harlan kept walking, leading Ray to the separate area in the back dedicated to training and development. The place was truly huge, housing an area for teaching purposes and another for live shows and entertainment. Not to mention, the corporate and admin wing in the opposite direction from where Peyton and Harlan usually spent their time.

"Oh, it looks like there's going to be some sort of special house show tonight" Harlan said, reading a memo posted on the gym doors.

"Yeah, it looks like we don't have as much time as we'd like to show Ray around before it gets all kind of crazy up in here" Peyton said, skimming over the same memo.

Despite the memo, the girls couldn't bring themselves to rush Ray. They led him around showing him all the different areas they had frequented since starting their lessons. He seemed genuinely impressed by the facility.

"This place is just nuts. Do you know how many people could live in here?" Ray mumbled.

Holding her arm, Peyton gently pulled Harlan off to the side as Ray tinkered around with the kettle-balls.

"How much trouble do you think we'll get into if we take him to see the live show area?" Peyton asked with mischief in her eyes.

"As long as we don't cut it too close to when the fans start trickling in, I don't see what the problem could be…" Harlan reasoned.

With that, the girls led Ray out of the training area and towards the live show and entertainment wing. All around them NXT posters were plastered. Harlan looked around and felt a sense of awe.

_This could be me one day… I could have my face on a poster in these halls…_

Shaking herself out her daydream, she caught up to Ray and Peyton. The trio finally reached the ring area and there they stood, entirely speechless. It was simply amazing to be so near the ring where many an aspiring wrestler had been, fighting for their chance to make it to the top. Ray clapped a hand on each of their backs.

"You'll both be down there someday" he whispered.

Peyton and Harlan looked at one another. The same look of dubious hope crossed their features.

Eventually they had their fill and they turned back towards the same hall they'd come from. As they neared one of the private male locker rooms, the door swung open and out walked a tall man, hair slicked back, wearing black mercenary style apparel. He turned towards them and Harlan's stomach jolted with surprise.

"Isn't that... Wait a minute, I know that guy!" Ray exclaimed before running ahead of the girls to catch up with the man.

"Hey!" Ray yelled at the younger man with the intense stare.

"Man, how you been?" Dean greeted him casually, holding his hand out for a handshake.

Ray and Dean shook hands amicably.

"I guess that confirms it, Red" Peyton whispered as they paused several feet away from the two men.

"Living and breathing. Listen, I really wanted to apologize for the way I acted at the hospital" Ray said apologetically.

"Don't sweat it. I was a bit hard on you too, but I was just like, full of adrenaline or something, you know, from watching the matches that day and from wanting to get to the hospital on time" Dean explained as his eyes wandered down the hall to where the redhead stood with the brunette.

"Water under the bridge! You know, I don't think I introduced myself that day. My name is Ray" Ray said with a chuckle.

"Dean" Dean said, returning his eyes to Ray's bearded face and casually chewing his gum.

"Dean, I have to thank you again for everything you did that day" Ray said, the sincerity clear on his face and in his voice.

"Don't mention it" Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

"Ahh, hell, you're being modest. But speaking of hospitals …" Ray said as he looked around for Harlan and Peyton. Spotting them down the hall, he waved them over and called out to them, "Get over here for a minute!"

Harlan's stomach flipped as she and Peyton walked towards the two men. Dean's piercing blue eyes followed her as the two girls reached them. Ray clapped a hand onto Harlan's shoulder.

"Have you two met? I mean, met without Harlan speaking gibberish and her eyes rolling into the back of her head?" Ray said jokingly.

Harlan resisted the urge to punch Ray. Looking up, she inadvertently locked eyes with Dean and she soon forgot about the burly man's teasing joke.

His eyes held hers as though he were trying to see her core. She shifted awkwardly as she felt her face flush with heat.

"We've bumped into each other here and there" Dean said vaguely, a cool half smile gracing his face.

_Oh man, why is he staring at me like that? Why do I feel so nervous?!_

"Uhh, yeah…" Harlan deadpanned; she was at a loss for words. She still felt the same sense of familiarity and safety around him, but there was whole new level of intensity to Dean this time around. Or maybe the shift was on her end. She couldn't be sure.

"Small world, isn't it? Speaking of a small world, Ray, I better get you out of here before anyone notices you don't have a Visitor's Pass" Peyton said, grabbing Ray's arm and pulling him away from Dean and Harlan.

"Nice to see you, Dean, thanks again!" Ray called out, turning to keep up with Peyton as she tried to lead him down the hall and back out towards the main entrance area.

Dean leaned his shoulder against the wall; his thumbs hooking into his belt slightly pulling down the front of his pants. He looked down at Harlan with an ambiguous half smile; he continued chewing his gum, like he didn't have a single care in the world. Meanwhile, Harlan stood fidgeting with a drawstring on her hoodie, avoiding his eyes.

"Sooo…. Why didn't you mention anything at the banquet?" she asked him, her voice barely above a whisper. She wasn't used to feeling so exposed; the fact he had known who she was all this time made her feel vulnerable.

Finally raising her eyes, she studied his face as he answered her. Unfortunately, he didn't give much away other than a slight burrowing of his brow which cleared away almost as soon as it had appeared.

"I don't really have an answer to that" he said honestly.

A moment of silence passed between them in which he noticed the scars on her arms.

"Are those from the Cincy match?" he asked her point blank. Without unhooking his thumbs from his belt, he pointed towards her arms with an index finger.

Her stomach lurched as she realized she had her sleeves rolled up. Quickly, she rolled them down and clasped her hands in front of her, keeping the sleeves locked between her hands.

"Yeah. They are." She replied curtly as she looked down at the floor.

Normally she didn't care if someone saw her scars; she didn't make a habit of hiding them.

_I don't…. I don't want him to think of me as damaged…_

She realized this was the first time her scars had made her feel inadequate. A sense of disappointment washed over her.

"Funny. I didn't even notice them at the banquet" he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She looked up at him and he caught the expression of uncertainty on her face. It caught him off guard; he hadn't thought of her as the type to be self-conscious about the scars, especially considering the gown she had worn to the banquet.

"Why did you help me out both times?" she asked him bluntly. She chewed her bottom lip anxiously, almost as though she regretted asking that question.

"It felt right" he said, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders.

"Do you always give such vague answers?" she said hotly, cheeks flushing with frustration. Her stomach was in knots and he seemed as cool as a cucumber. It was driving her up the wall that he looked completely unaffected. She couldn't read him at all and his short answers were not helping.

He stopped chewing his gum and watched her intently; his eyes took in the heated flush on her face, the way she worked on her lower lip, her long red hair spilling around her shoulders as she bowed her head slightly, her chest rising and falling heavily and the way she still held her hands clasped in front of her.

He pushed himself off the wall and closed the gap between them; he towered over her. She looked up at him and met his eyes; she gasped and almost felt weak in the knees. Her heart raced and her pulse thundered in her ears. His eyes had darkened and the coolly ambiguous look on his face was replaced with a sharp seriousness.

He snaked an arm around her, his hand stopping on her lower back. As he leaned over, she caught the faint scent of mint. His cheek brushed the side of her face and his warm breath tickled her ear, sending tingles down her entire body.

"Maybe sometime I'll show you my scars" he whispered.

As he stepped away from her, his hand hugged her side, holding her there for a split second. With one last look, he walked past her and down the hall, leaving her there by herself.

Harlan held onto the wall with one hand; the cool surface a welcome relief against her palm.

* * *

_She moaned as his hands slid up her sides, underneath her t-shirt. Skin on skin, his fingertips burned a trail up her ribs, stopping just below her breasts. He lowered his face and pressed his lips to hers. She caught his lower lip, sucking on it gently, flicking her tongue against it. He groaned against her lips, the vibration of his voice sending a thrill down between her legs._

_She wrapped her arms around his midsection, pulling him closer, pressing her body against his. She was acutely aware of his growing excitement. Slipping her hands beneath his shirt, she raked her nails against his skin, bringing a growl from deep within his throat._

_Breaking the kiss, his hands slid further up her body; his warm hands palmed the sides of her breasts, teasing her. His piercing blue eyes searched hers; she bit her lip and shyly looked away, causing him to smirk. He cupped the underside of her breasts, purposefully avoiding her nipples, as he brought his lips down to her neck. Aching for more, she arched her back, pushing her breasts into his palms and grinding against his hard body._

_He trailed kisses along her jaw until he reached her ear. He sucked and bit her earlobe gently before pausing to whisper into her ear, his hot breath tickling her._

_"I want you, Harlan…" he whispered; hearing him say her name brought a deeper flush to her cheeks._

The harsh sound of her cell-phone rang out, cutting through her dream-filled mind and unpleasantly throwing her into reality.

Harlan groaned into her pillow. Frustrated, she ran her hands through her hair and gently tugged.

"What. The. Fuck. Was THAT?" she mumbled to herself, her voice muffled by the pillow.

"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed as she finally lifted her face from the pillow. Her phone was still ringing; apparently whoever was calling would not give up.

She reached over to her bedside table and grabbed her phone. She glanced at the Caller ID but didn't recognize the number.

"Hello…?" she said, her voice still laced with sleep.

"Oh, sorry, did I wake you? It's Randy" said the deeply masculine voice on the other end of the line.

Sitting up and clearing her throat, Harlan frowned and paused for a moment.

"How did you get my number?" she asked him, completely confused.

"Right, sorry again, I got it from Stephanie McMahon's assistant. It's not a problem, is it? Shit, seems I'm all apologies with you" Randy said, sounding genuinely flustered.

_Do I need to have a little chat with that assistant? Sigh._

"Whatever, don't worry about it" Harlan yawned, "Sorry; so what's up, what can I do for you?" she asked him politely as she stretched her legs out over the edge of her bed.

"A bunch of us are getting together in Miami in a couple of weeks; we're scheduled to do a RAW show over there and I figured it would be a good opportunity for you to meet some others from the RAW roster" Randy explained.

"Where's this thing going down?" she asked him curiously.

"Uhhh, we're going to a club. It's called Palacio. A bunch of the divas swear it's a great place. I know you're not big into dancing, but the music will be decent and the company even better. How about it?" he asked her, his voice softening.

Harlan's first impulse was to reject the offer, but after a moment or two she realized Peyton would absolutely love going there. The reason they were even in Florida to begin with was constantly weighing down on her brunette friend; this seemed like the perfect thing Harlan could do to cheer her up.

"Can I bring Peyton?" Harlan asked, already cringing at the thought of going to a Miami nightclub.

"Of course you can. I'll text you the details. I'm really looking forward to seeing you again, Harlan" he said. She could hear the smile in his voice

"Yeah, it'll be nice to see you too. Thanks for the invite!" she said.

Ending their conversation, Harlan threw her cell-phone onto the bed as she crawled back under the covers. She knew Randy didn't have to invite them, and it probably would have been better for him had he not done so. She could imagine that many of the superstars would wonder what the two developmental newbies were doing out there with them; the two of them weren't even on NXT yet, so really, they were below the lowest rung of the ladder.

"Fuck them…" she mumbled, staring up at the ceiling, as her thoughts drifted back to her interrupted dream; the dirty dream centered on a certain man with an apparent penchant for rescuing her.

_Oh, gods, don't tell me... _

She covered her face with her hands and sighed loudly in frustration as the realization hit her full force.

"I'm so into him it's stupid…" she whispered to herself, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes.

* * *

_**A/N: I was going to keep writing and drop a major bomb on you guys, but I'm yawning my ass off and there are literally "tears" pooling in my eyes with every damn yawn. Before I go off to Dreamland, I kind of feel like apologizing to you all because I know this story is probably proving to be slower than a lot of other stories on this site. Believe me when I say I am beyond "frustrated" with that. I am proud of this story and of what it is so far, but it's definitely a case of the story writing itself, and it isn't exactly what I had envisioned or wanted it to be. I'm not saying it's a bad thing, because in many ways, it's turning out better than I had originally imagined... but I am very aware that it's more or less turning out to be a goddamn book and not a short story. If you're not into that, I completely understand and I sincerely apologize. That being said, I hope the majority of you stick with me on this because there truly is a major bomb coming up, and as you can tell, things are getting spicier for Harlan and Dean. Thank you so much for the favorites and follows. See you all at the next update :)**_


	21. Catch a Falling Knife

**_Someone in the World_**

**Summary:**What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood._ Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings: **Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature_ (when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer: **This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

* * *

Harlan applied the finishing touches to her makeup and hair; it was all very low key as she didn't like to emulate the girls with the layers upon layers of crap on their faces and wildly over-teased hair.

Still, even for her it was more than usual. She used liquid liner this time, for crying out loud. And a smidge of hair product; some cream she found in Peyton's stash which claimed to smooth down the fly-aways while creating an "edgy" look.

_Whatever that means…_

Surveying herself in the mirror, she sighed and shrugged her shoulders hopelessly.

_I don't even know if he'll be there… Besides, even if I knew for sure… Isn't it kind of lame to put this much effort into it?_

She walked out of the bathroom, patting the pockets of her skinny jeans to make sure she had everything. Wallet, check. Tube of matte lip cream, check. Keys, check.

Ray wandered out of the kitchen and caught sight of her as he meandered towards the living room holding a sandwich and a glass of milk. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Who's the lucky guy?" he asked her around a bite of his sandwich.

"Why does there need to be a guy?" she replied, visibly prickling at his jab.

"Oh, well, I don't know. Maybe because you're all dolled up" he said as he plopped down onto the couch. He placed his food on the coffee table and reached for the remote.

"Dolled up? By the way, you're not supposed to speak with your mouth full" she shot back as she walked over to her room to grab her coveted gray Converse sneakers. As she walked away, she heard Ray cracking up with laughter.

As she sat on her bed, lacing up her sneakers, Peyton walked in.

Harlan's mouth dropped at the form fitting, short skirted, cap sleeved bandage style dress. The deep purple color perfectly complimented Peyton's long brown hair and hazel eyes.

"Whoa, umm… I think I'm under-dressed" Harlan said dryly.

Peyton looked her over critically, taking in every aspect of Harlan's ensemble.

"I like the loose fitting tank you've got going on right now. Even if it has a freaking skull on it, the navy blue color agrees with you. But I'm seriously not feeling the jeans and sneakers, sorry babe" she said honestly.

Harlan grumbled under her breath and stalked over to her closet. She hated dressing up in any way. It all just felt so stuffy, like she couldn't even breathe. The last thing she wanted to do was put on some glamorous dress.

"Let's see what's in here" Peyton said, sidling up to Harlan and ruffling through her closet.

"What about this?" Peyton asked, holding up a black leather mini skirt with a zipper detail straight down the middle.

"Umm, how about we don't go there?" Harlan said as she tried to pry the skirt away from Peyton's death grip.

"Why not? Give me one good reason" Peyton said, holding the skirt up in the air and stretching up on the tips of her toes.

"I bought that thing on a whim; it's not really something I wear" Harlan tried to explain. She felt like she'd attract the wrong kind of attention wearing black leather to a Miami nightclub. She didn't mind being looked at, or taking part in a little flirting, but a whole club full of hormonal men?

"You've gotta live a little sometimes. Give it a try. If you don't like how it looks with your tank, we'll ditch the idea. I promise" Peyton said, thrusting the skirt into Harlan's arms.

Grudgingly, Harlan took the skirt and changed into it. They'd changed in front of each other countless times in the locker rooms; this was no different.

"Fuck, yeah. Red, you have to wear this tonight" Peyton said, whistling at her.

Harlan moved over to stand in front of the mirror she'd hung on the inside of the closet door. She looked herself over and had to admit that it looked pretty good. The loose fitting graphic tank helped to offset the sex kitten factor of the leather skirt.

"Fine, but I'm wearing my combat boots" Harlan said in a stern voice.

After Harlan had dug out a small, studded, charcoal colored purse with a long strap, she threw everything she needed into it and slung it across her body messenger style.

"Alright, let's get the hell out of here. We need to leave, it's kind of a long drive" Harlan said.

The girls walked out and made their way to the apartment door. Ray watched them, this time keeping his comments about Harlan's appearance to himself, and called out to them from the couch.

"Be careful, you two. I mean it! Watch out for each other!" he said.

"Yes, Brother Ray!" the girls said in unison as they walked out of the apartment.

* * *

The atmosphere was dark and hazy. There seemed to be a sort of fog to the place; Harlan could only guess there were a few strategically placed smoke machines hiding around the club. The neon lights and dimmed pot lights only furthered the surrealist and dreamy feel of the place.

"Why do I feel like I just walked into some sort of disco spaceship…?" Harlan whispered in Peyton's ear. The brunette winked at her and took her by the hand, leading her towards the bar area.

The closer they got to the bar, the louder the music thumped in their heads and against their chests. Although it wasn't her music of choice, Harlan had to admit the bass reverberating in the enclosed space was making her want to bob her head in time to the beat.

As they approached the bar, they caught sight of a guy in tight white jeans and a tight black button up shirt, open down to his chest, dancing his way towards them. The guy made a dramatic stop involving some sort of flourish. He caught Harlan's hand in his, but she yanked her hand away quickly. Shrugging, he moved closer to the girls and introduced himself.

"My name is FAHN – DAHN – GOHHH!" he announced proudly.

Harlan took a step back, "Oookay, then… That's nice" she said, completely unimpressed and more on the bewildered side.

Peyton tried not to laugh, but failed. Fandango winked at her and turned back to Harlan. He held out his hand, his demeanor completely changing from cheesy sitcom character to normal human being.

"Seriously, my name is Curtis. Randy told me to keep an eye out for you guys" he explained, as Harlan tentatively shook his hand.

"We've got a VIP room, follow me" he said, turning around.

Going up a staircase, they reached the VIP room; it had a balcony overlooking the dance floor. From the look of things, they had bottle service and an assigned waitress.

Harlan hung back behind Peyton; she looked around at the faces and recognized none. She pulled on her leather skirt, wishing it were longer.

Curtis waved his arms out and raised his voice, "Everyone, these lovely ladies are friends of Randy. Peyton and Harlan, this is everyone" then he proceeded to walk away to join a group of giggling women.

A few people looked up and raised their drinks at them; Peyton winked back at them and smiled; a confident smile. Harlan avoided their eyes and made her way to the balcony.

"Promise me you won't stand here all night" Peyton told her, nudging her in the ribs.

"I promise I'll try not to. Listen, don't worry about me. Get out there and have fun; this is for you, Peyton. Dance and chat the night away" Harlan told her, urging her friend to have fun.

Peyton gave her an undecided look. She opened her mouth to speak but Harlan stopped her.

"I mean it. Go!" Harlan said, pushing Peyton away. The brunette leaned forward quickly and planted a kiss on Harlan's cheek.

"Thanks, Red" she whispered, before walking off.

Harlan watched the people dancing below. Eventually, her foot started to tap in time to the music. The waitress came by and asked her if she'd like anything to drink, returning a few minutes later with the scotch on the rocks Harlan had asked for.

_This is going to be a long night… Ugh, I suck at small talk._

She turned as someone approached and leaned against the balcony railing next to her. A solid man with short brown hair, well trimmed brown beard and mustache and somewhat of a "Gladiator" look to him stood next to her.

"You doing okay?" he asked her, his deep voice showing genuine interest. He sort of sounded like Randy in a weird way.

"I'm fine. I'm just not the clubbing kind of girl" Harlan answered him honestly, sipping on her drink.

"Gotcha. I'm Joseph, by the way" he said, grinning at her widely.

"I'm Harlan" she replied. She noticed he wore a wedding ring and she relaxed a bit. Not that a wedding ring ever stopped anyone, but she liked to assume that it would at least delay any unwanted advances.

"Oh, trust me; I know your name already. The locker rooms at RAW have been buzzing with your name" he said, still grinning.

She frowned, "What do you mean?"

He took a swig of beer before answering her, "If you plan on sticking around in this business, you better get used to the rumors and the constant gossiping. We've all heard about the scuffle between Dean and Randy"

Harlan rolled her eyes before turning back to watch the people below them.

"So basically I'm now infamous for creating drama" she said, sounding pretty irate.

"No – don't get me wrong, a lot of us also know you from the hardcore scene. It's just that most people can't stop speculating as to why Dean Ambrose of all guys would bother defending a woman" he said, his tone all business and matter-of-fact.

Before she could ask him more, two men appeared behind Joseph, laughing loudly. They clapped him on the back and jostled him around; it reminded her of the stereotypical frat boys you would see in movies.

"YO! Axel! Don't be selfish, man," the bleach blonde man said before turning towards her, "You're Harlan, right?" he asked her. His smile was like something out of toothpaste commercials.

"Yeah, and you are?" she asked him.

"Ouch! You're killing me. I'm Nicholas, though most of the ladies know me as Dolph" he said, winking at her.

"This young guy right here is our little Taylor!" Dolph said, teasing the younger man. The young man had long, long brown hair and almond shaped brown eyes.

Harlan squinted and realized she had seen him before.

"Wait a minute, I've seen you before. There's like a million posters of you down at the Performance Center" Harlan said.

Taylor looked embarrassed, "Yeaaahh… I'm sort of the current NXT Champion"

"Sort of?" Harlan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What Taylor means to say is that he owns NXT and no man can touch him" Joseph said, laughing boisterously.

Harlan looked up at him in something close to awe.

"But you're so young!" she said, surprise in her voice.

The other two men laughed while Taylor immediately straightened up.

"You're not that much older than me" he protested, pointedly staring down at Harlan.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean anything by it. I'm honestly impressed. I doubt I'll ever get to where you are" she said, shrugging.

Dolph squeezed in between her and Joseph and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"You'll make it. Everyone I know speaks highly of you and the fact you're new to all this but still so talented is a GOOD thing. If you want, you could try asking to be my new valet. It might help you out" he said, smirking.

Harlan rolled her eyes and the guys laughed good-naturedly. She tuned them out as they gave Dolph a hard time for his lame attempt at flirting. She watched as Randy walked through the door. He frowned as he took in the sight of Harlan surrounded by the men, particularly at Dolph's arm around her shoulders.

He sauntered over; his body moved so fluidly. His jeans hugged him perfectly, as did the tight t-shirt. Harlan had to admit; the man was attractive, and despite her better judgment, she couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to sleep with him.

_A girl can fantasize, and damn, the guy walks like sex on legs…_

As he reached the group, his cold blue eyes stared at the men; his eyes lingered for a fraction of a second on each of them.

"Well, well. Is everyone having a good time?" he asked, his deep voice not matching the innocent question. Taylor and Joseph stayed completely quiet. Harlan's previous fantasies shattered as she felt the sudden chill permeate the atmosphere.

"For sure; it's a killer club" Dolph said, matching Randy's intense gaze with his own blue eyes.

Sighing, Joseph stepped between them, "I'm pretty sure Harlan doesn't need another one of these dick measuring contests, so why don't you two pretty boys cut it out" he said, swinging his head to look between the two men.

Dolph slowly removed his arm from Harlan's shoulders; Randy smirked, but took a step back as a sign of cooperation.

_Aaaaand this is why I can't afford to be stupid…_

"Excuse me" Harlan said. Joseph nodded and moved back to let her pass.

She walked quickly, not caring as she faintly heard Randy call out to her. She made her way out of the VIP room and nearly ran down the staircase. Bumping into him, she came face to face with the last person she expected to see at the club.

"Whoa, where are you going in such a rush?" Punk asked her, gently placing his hands on her shoulders to stabilize her as she stumbled.

Harlan felt relief spread over her, "What are you doing here?" she asked him.

"I heard you'd be here, so I figured I'd take the opportunity to check up on you" he said, his eyes searching her face, "What's wrong?" he asked her.

"Ugh, nothing… I just started to feel a bit trapped up there" she said vaguely.

"Red! What happened?" Peyton's voice trailed down the staircase as the brunette appeared behind her.

"Nothing, nothing" Harlan said, still trying to dodge the questions. Harlan pressed her back against the wall, giving Peyton room to join them.

The brunette nodded a greeting to Punk before turning to Harlan; concern etched on her face.

"Don't give me that crap, babe. I saw you with the guys; I also saw how everything took a dive when Randy got there" Peyton said.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Punk exclaimed as he rolled his eyes at the mention of The Viper.

"It wasn't like that!" Harlan groaned. Running her hands through her red hair, she explained what had happened.

"See; nothing happened. It was nothing" Harlan said.

Punk and Peyton locked gazes above Harlan's head; after a few seconds, Punk spoke up.

"If it was nothing, you wouldn't have nearly knocked me over as you flew down the stairs" he said pointedly.

"He's right. We can talk to Randy if you'd like" Peyton offered.

"No! I can handle it myself. For crying out loud, you're both over reacting, don't you think? What the hell is up with that?" Harlan asked angrily.

"Oh, well, fuck us for taking interest in your well-being" Punk said sarcastically.

Groaning, Harlan held her head in her hands.

"He didn't mean that" Peyton said quickly, glaring at Punk. He shrugged, crossing his arms across his chest.

"We're just trying to help you out, babe. You're usually the one holding everyone else together, so yeah, it's kind of concerning when you run out of a room" Peyton explained.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I suck at these things, I really do. Look, I'm going to sit at the bar for a bit, okay? You guys head on up and do your thing" Harlan said, attempting to squeeze past Punk.

Punk leaned towards her, placing a gentle hand around her wrist.

"Be careful; I'll be up here if you need me" he whispered to her.

Without a word, Harlan broke free from him and walked down the last few steps. She made her way to the bar and found an empty stool. She ordered another scotch on the rocks, sipping on it as she swiveled in the stool to watch the dancers. She ignored the interested stares from the men around her. Frowning, she did her best to avoid eye contact with anyone; never staring at one person more than a second.

_He's not even going to show up, is he? Fuck it…_

In one gulp, she finished off her drink, swiveling around to place the empty glass on the counter. She hopped down from the stool and made her way to the dance floor, finding a crowded area to mingle in.

The music washed over her and with eyes closed, she let her body find the rhythm. She normally wasn't the type to dance, but tonight she just wanted to get lost in the crowd; she just wanted to be another body in the sea of bodies.

_Blow by blow_

_I didn't see it coming_

_Blow by blow_

_Sucker punched  
_

_Rushes in_

_Here to stay_

_Rushes in _

_You are here to stay… _

Harlan lost herself to the music; her hips swaying and her hands caressing her sides and running through her hair.

_What rushes into my heart and my skull_

_I can't control_

_Think about it _

_Feel it in my bones_

_What rushes into my heart and my skull_

_I can't control  
_

_I feel you in my bones_

_You're knocking at my window_

_You're slowly letting me go_

_And I know this feeling oh so_

_This feeling in my bones… _

As she turned, revolving sensually on the spot, she felt strong arms wrap around her body. She opened her eyes to find his piercing blue eyes drinking her in. The dark look in his eyes thrilled her; it sent heat and electricity shooting out throughout her body.

He held her close to his body, his hands resting on her hips. She used his body as a prop; all the frustration from the scene in the VIP room and the staircase, the crap she'd been dealing with in developmental, all of it came out in her dance. She let him hold her as she rolled her hips, grinding against him. Her hands caressed his chest and his midsection as she swayed hypnotically around him; she circled him, her hand trailing down to his ass and giving it a firm squeeze. Reaching up, she wound her arms around his neck, letting her body fall against his.

Leaning down, he whispered into her ear, "What's gotten into you?"

"Make me forget…" she breathed out against his ear.

Dean wrapped an arm around her; his hand sitting low on her back, the tips of his fingers grazing the top of her leather covered ass. His other hand buried itself at the back of her head; his hand roughly grabbed a fistful of her long hair and angled her face up towards his. Dean brought his face down mere centimeters from hers. Slowly the distance between them closed; she could feel his breath on her lips; and he could feel hers on his. She closed her eyes, her heart beating fast and hard in her chest.

But before their lips touched, someone bumped into her from behind, hard, jolting her and shifting her off balance. Her lips brushed his cheek. Dean instinctively held her close to him as he looked past her, looking for whoever had bumped into her.

"What the fuck…" she heard him mumble. She looked up and around the dance floor. A few people were scrambling away, fear on their faces.

Then they heard it. A gun shot. The music stopped abruptly as chaos erupted all around them. Now, everyone on the dance floor ran in every direction; nobody knew where the shot had come from, but they knew they had to get out.

"Shit! Come on!" She yelled, pulling on Dean's hand. As she ran towards the VIP room staircase, with Dean behind her, they heard a second gun shot. Fighting their way through the crowds of people, it felt like forever until they finally reached the stairs.

Turning to her, he stopped.

"Let me go first" he said quietly. Harlan didn't argue; she kept close to him as they made their way up the stairs. Once at the top, he paused. Something in his body language froze her veins.

"Let me through" she demanded, but his arm shot out to block her path.

"No, no, wait" he said, insisting. He turned and held her back by the shoulders.

"Let go. Now" she said firmly. Her gray eyes bore into him; the piercing intensity promising him a fight if he didn't do as she asked.

"Whatever" he mumbled, raising his hands in a show of submission; he backed away into the room to give her space to pass.

She walked in to find the room in complete disarray. The divas cowered in a corner with many of the men creating a protective shield around them. In the center of the room she saw Joseph kneeling down, Randy beside him. Both were hovering over someone.

_That dress…_

As she approached, Randy turned to look at her. Getting to his feet, he grimaced in pain. Harlan realized he'd been shot in the shoulder. With one hand he applied pressure to his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Harlan. I tried to stop them. I really did. I'm so sorry" he rambled incoherently.

Looking down, she confirmed her suspicions. Her stomach dropped to her feet and her mouth became dry. A lump formed in her throat.

Peyton was lying on the ground, on her back. A bullet wound could be seen in her midsection; the material of her dress completely wrecked from path of the bullet and from all the blood, despite Joseph's hands applying pressure. Peyton looked pale and pasty. Upon a second glance, Harlan noticed her chest rising.

_She's still here…_

Harlan stood motionless, frozen to the spot. She stared at Peyton's chest; she was afraid to look away for fear that her friend would stop breathing.

"Did anyone call for an ambulance?" Harlan heard someone say. Clearing her throat, she realized she'd been the one speaking.

"She needs an ambulance" she said again, her voice thick with repressed tears. She felt a presence behind her and knew without checking it was Dean. Sure enough, she heard his voice behind her as he wrapped his hand around one of hers.

One of the divas in the corner assured her they had called for help; the others murmuring in agreement.

"What happened, who did this and why?" he asked everyone as his thumb caressed her hand; she focused on the motion of his thumb. It soothed her and gave her something else to think about; something else to feel.

"I wish I knew" Joseph said without looking up. He was completely intent on minimizing Peyton's blood loss.

"A Latino looking guy burst into the room, some girl behind him. She was crying and begging him to stop. Peyton stepped forward, it looked like she knew the girl" Joseph continued. He took his own shirt off; with muscles rippling, he tore the shirt in half. He balled up one half of the shirt and pressed it against the bullet wound in Peyton's midsection. With the other half of the shirt, he created a make-shift bandage; he wrapped it around her and tied it over the balled up shirt, hard and tight.

Without getting to his feet, Joseph pivoted on his knees and turned to look up at Peyton. There was sincere sympathy in his eyes.

"The guy was going off in Spanish, and the only thing the girl kept saying was "stop" and "leave her alone". Peyton never even got a word in. He just aimed the gun at her. That's when Randy stepped in front of her" Joseph explained.

Punk rushed into the room, paramedics following him. Seeing Harlan, Punk paled.

"You shouldn't be seeing this" he said as the paramedics reached Peyton and attended to her. Everyone backed up and gave them space to work.

For a moment, Punk frowned. He glanced down at Harlan's hand; he watched Dean's thumb playing across her skin. He shook his head to clear his mind.

"Are you okay?" he asked her as his eyes scanned her quickly for any injuries.

"She's fine; we didn't bump into any gunmen or anything like that" Dean answered for her. Punk looked mildly annoyed at the fact the younger man had answered him, but he shrugged it off. He was more interested in the fact that Harlan was safe and sound.

As the paramedics cautiously moved Peyton onto a stretcher, Randy dropped to his knees. He stared down at his bloody hands before looking up at Harlan.

"I'm so sorry…" he mumbled; his eyes held an unfocused look.

A nagging feeling in the back of her mind snapped her out of the numb shock she had fallen into. Harlan looked down at Randy curiously. She cleared her throat once again.

"Why do you keep saying sorry?" she asked him, watching him intently.

"I didn't think I'd see her again, especially not like this. I told her to step away, to leave, but she wouldn't listen. I was going to try and take the gun from him, but… but I didn't want to risk her getting hurt…" Randy said, rambling.

"See her again? Who?" Harlan asked. Suddenly, something slid into place in her mind. It clicked, and a wrenching feeling took root in the pit of her stomach.

"My sister… My little sister was here. He shot us and she was here" Randy answered in a hoarse and ragged voice.

The paramedics came up behind him and handed him a wad of gauze for him to press against his shoulder. Slowly, Randy made it back to his feet as the paramedics instructed him to follow them.

"Becky… my little Becky" he mumbled; a lone tear squeezed out of one eye as he turned and walked behind Peyton's stretcher. The paramedics announced the name of the hospital they'd be going to, but Harlan caught none of it. The last thing she heard echoed in her mind. Becky.

* * *

_**A/N: HUGE Thank You to every new follower and to everyone who has added me/this story into their Favorites list. Also, MANY happy tears and one giant bear hug to everyone who has left me a comment. You guys rock, really. The kind words really pulled me through a funk I was in, and even the criticisms helped. But who am I kidding, the kind words are what tipped me over the edge. I truthfully wasn't expecting such a response! I hope this update is enough of a gift. Some notes: Joseph is Curtis Axel. Taylor is Bo Dallas. Nicholas is, as he himself explained, Dolph Ziggler. The song Harlan danced to is a remix: DJ Tiesto ft. Tegan and Sara - Feel it in My Bones. THANK YOU again, guys. You guys make my day with all the favorites, follows, and comments. See you at the next update :)**_


	22. Silence and SIrens

**_Someone in the World_**

**Summary:**What happens when you have nobody left? When there's nobody to look out for you except yourself? Harlan hits the road and finds the one thing she thought she'd never have again: Hope. A story of a broken family and discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood._ Rated T for now but later chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle._

**Warnings: **Strong language and violence throughout. Later chapters will most likely contain scenes of a sexual nature_ (when the rating changes to M)_

**Disclaimer: **This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.

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Harlan paced down the hall and back again. She was at Jackson Memorial Hospital; Dean had driven her car while she had sat in the passenger seat, fruitlessly trying to get in touch with Ray.

The nurses had pointed them in the right direction, and now they sat in the surgical waiting room. Well, Punk and Dean sat and waited. She couldn't sit; and so she walked, and walked, and walked.

"Harlan, stop, please" Punk said as she passed by him for the millionth time. He looked up at her, bags under his eyes; exhaustion was etched across his face. He had called Colt to deliver the news. It hadn't been easy; he managed to convince his friend to stay in Chicago until they had at least received the first update from the doctors.

Ignoring him, she kept walking. She chewed on her lip and toyed with the hem of her tank top.

_Where's Ray? Why wouldn't he answer? I hope he gets my messages… What's taking them so long? I just need to know… I just need to know for sure…_

"Harlan" Dean said firmly and clearly.

She paused in front of him and looked down at him. Her gray eyes were wide and bright; too bright. Her face was drained of color, and although she wasn't crying or acting jittery, he saw it all in her eyes; he saw everything she was desperately trying to keep at bay.

Wordlessly he reached out and took both her hands in his. He guided her hands to the sides of his face and held them there. She stood there, cupping his face with his hands over hers, her body trapped between his legs. He looked up at her, his blue eyes holding her still.

"Just look at me, okay. Just focus on me" he said quietly.

For a moment, she let herself get lost in his eyes. Her body shivered involuntarily and she closed her eyes; taking deep breaths, she readjusted her hands and buried them in the hair at the back of his head.

Placing his hands on her hips to hold her steady, Dean simply watched her without a word. He knew that for what she was going through there were no perfect words. The only thing he could do was to be there, physically, and keep her as calm as possible by showing her she had someone to lean on.

Punk tried his best not to raise eyebrows at the whole display. He understood she needed an anchor right now, but it was more than a mind-bend seeing Dean Ambrose taking that role.

_Whatever works, I guess, but damn… Can you blame a guy?_

Sighing and shrugging, he ran his hands across his face. This was going to be a long night; a string of many long nights, probably.

"Miss Matheson?" a loud voice called out from down the hall.

Harlan's eyes snapped open and her hands slid from Dean's hair, down his arms, until she reached his hands. Hands locked, they turned to see where the voice had come from.

The three of them scanned the hall and saw a man walking towards them. He was wearing a black trench coat, black casual pants, and a gray button up shirt. As he approached them, he called out to her again.

"Miss Matheson?"

"Yes?" Harlan replied, coughing to cover up the shakiness in her voice.

"I'm Detective Vega from the Miami-Dade Police Department. I'm going to have to ask you some questions regarding tonight's incident at the club" the man said as he stopped in front of Harlan.

Punk stood up and walked the short distance to where the detective stood in front of Harlan. Before he could speak, Dean stood up, releasing his hold on Harlan's hands; his two inches over Punk made him the tallest, and Dean made good use of that.

Dean stared down at the man as he placed himself between the detective and Harlan; with his face completely impassive and not giving anything away, it was a clear challenge to the cop.

"Is now really the best time for this, officer?" Dean asked slowly, deliberately emphasizing his last word.

"Unfortunately, Mr.…" Detective Vega began, sighing as he took out a notepad and flipping through it until he found the page he wanted, "Mr. Good, yes. It needs to be now" he finished, depositing the notepad back into his coat pocket.

"Look, we're waiting to find out if our friend is going to be alright. Can it at least wait until after the doctors update us?" Punk offered, scratching his chin.

The detective shoved his hands into his pant pockets, shrugging apologetically, "I truly am sorry for the intrusion, but the quicker we get this out of the way, the better it'll be for everyone involved. Miss Matheson, please. If you'll follow me down the hall we can quickly get this over with"

"Fine" Harlan said, moving around Dean to follow the detective. She nodded her head at both men; silently assuring them she would be fine.

Reaching an empty room with no patients in either bed, Detective Vega closed the door behind them. He took out his notepad once again, and also a pen, and proceeded to not waste any time. He asked her questions about tonight and about Peyton in general. Harlan answered everything as best as she could; hoping for a chance to ask him a few questions of her own.

Finally, he clicked shut his pen and put it away, along with the notepad, in his coat pocket. Harlan cleared her throat and took the opportunity.

"Detective, this is getting completely out of hand. What in the bloody hell is going on?" she asked him; the color finally returning to her face as her voice lost the weak and wavering sound from earlier.

Vega rubbed the back of his head with one hand, "Your friend's managed to get herself involved with some nasty people, Miss Matheson. These guys don't play around, alright? They call themselves Latin Kings and they have operations in at least 39 states and over 200 cities. I suspect the man named Santiago placed some sort of bounty on Miss Carver's head, you know, eye for an eye kind of thing. If he blames her for Miss Orton's decision to abort their child, well, it won't be pretty" he explained.

"That's it? We've figured that out already. Chicago PD has at least two incidents on record, and now my friend is being operated on because she was gunned down! Hello! I'd call that an escalation, wouldn't you? Why aren't you guys doing more? What the hell is going on?" Harlan ranted, her gray eyes staring daggers at Detective Vega.

"It's complicated, Miss Matheson. Right now, we've got a man undercover with the Latin Kings and another with an opposing gang, La Raza. We've been working an operation for the last six months and as you can imagine, it requires a delicate balancing act to keep things from crashing on us. I hate to say this, but as painful and awful as this situation is for you guys, it's definitely the little fish in comparison to what we've been working on. Top Brass wouldn't take kindly to a major bust going under because of a minor and detached incident involving civilians" Vega explained. To his credit, he didn't look like he was enjoying saying any of that to her, especially while standing in a hospital room.

Harlan backed up a step and her eyebrows shot up, "Oh, so we're just fodder? Like, who gives a shit if my friend dies back there in the operating room or if my guardian has also been assaulted. None of that matters, so long as you guys with the shiny badges get your bust and commemorative medals because of it" she said hotly, sarcasm dripping from her every word.

Sighing, Vega stepped closer and looked her dead in the eyes; his face was not unkind and his voice was calm and firm, "That's not what I'm saying. Believe me; I didn't take this job so I could sacrifice innocent people in the name of recognition. I'm only saying that we're a bit restricted as to what we can do; we can't afford to go in guns blazing, but we're still going to place you and your guardian under protective custody. There'll be men assigned to watch Miss Carver's room 24/7 WHEN she pulls through out of surgery"

"About damn time..." Harlan muttered, crossing her arms and nodding her approval. She appreciated the fact he spoke about Peyton in a positive light.

Without another word, they exited the room. Walking back down the hall, Harlan saw a scene she desperately did not want to see right now. Randy now stood with Punk and Dean; the pierced man strategically standing between the other two men.

As she approached, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself calm. She noticed Randy was heavily bandaged and he seemed a little shaky on his feet.

_He's probably light-headed from the pain medications... Should he even be up and walking around?_

"Alright, as I've explained to Miss Matheson, we'll be taking her into protective custody. What that means is she can't have any outside contact with any of you while she's under our care. I know that's a tough bite to chew on, but it's in her best interest. The less you guys know, the safer she is"

Punk bristled at the words, his chest puffing up, "We're supposed to just let her go off to God only knows where, with some department guys who will probably be bored and disgruntled for being assigned protective detail and we're just going to sit here assuming she's fine?"

"I don't have a whole lot of faith in uniformed men; I'm not quite feeling this arrangement, detective" Randy said, speaking in icy tones.

Raising his hands in a calming gesture, Vega tried to put out the fire "Guys, guys, please. I get it I really do but –"

"Nah, man. I don't think you do. From what Punk has told us, this is something that's chased them from like, all the way from Chicago. Peyton's been chased from New Jersey, like, do you understand that? Who is to say that these guys can't break your so called protective custody and gun down Harlan too, I mean, they seem pretty damn organized for a bunch of thugs" Dean said pointedly.

"Stop!" Harlan shouted, making them all jump slightly.

She took a deep breath and lifted her chin defiantly, "We're going to do this the way Detective Vega wants it. Do you want to know why? Right now, the most important thing to me is Peyton. You think she wanted to get shot over all this? No. Hell, I don't want to get shot over this either, but I'll gladly take a bullet if it means catching these guys once and for all and making sure Peyton doesn't need to take another piece of lead"

Detective Vega looked almost relieved to hear her words. Clearing his throat and shoving his hands into his pockets, he spoke up, "I appreciate that, but the whole point is to prevent you from getting shot, so, let's not talk about this as though we're throwing you into the line of fire."

A cell-phone went off; excusing himself, Detective Vega walked down the hall and took his phone out of his pocket.

Randy looked down at Harlan; as woozy as he felt, he had to get something off his chest.

"Harlan, listen. Punk told us everything he got from his friend back in Chicago. I didn't know about any of that stuff..." his voice died off as he stumbled on his feet suddenly.

Harlan wrapped an arm around his waist and helped him take a seat. Behind her, both Dean and Punk clenched their teeth; their jaws tightening visibly.

"Are you okay? Maybe you should go back to your room, Randy" she said, voice soft.

He shook his head, instantly regretting it. He grimaced and clenched his eyes shut to keep the dizziness away.

"No, I need you to know. I don't blame Peyton for any of this, okay? It's important that you know this. You know I have a child and when I think about my baby angel growing up with gang-bangers around her and with a daddy who abuses her mommy..." his voice broke.

Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I would never give up my angel. I'm glad I have her in my life, even now with only visitation rights. But she's a privilege. She's a God given privilege that I can't take for granted. Sam and I are damn lucky we have the lives we have. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I know Becky wouldn't have wanted to bring a child into that environment. I know my little sister. She wouldn't have wanted that, no way in hell. None of this is Peyton's fault, I need you to know I don't blame her" he said fervently.

Harlan leaned over and gingerly placed a hand on his healthy shoulder; she made sure he could look into her eyes, "Randy, you're one moody son of a bitch, you know that? Focus on getting better; nobody is saying you blame Peyton, but thank you for your words" she said, offering him a small smile.

As she straightened up, Detective Vega rejoined their little group.

"This just keeps getting better and better. That was my Chief and he's urging me to get Harlan out of here tonight, as in, now" he said, sounding apologetic.

Harlan held her hand up, immediately silencing the guys who had all sputtered disbelievingly.

"You're telling me I won't know if Peyton pulled through or not?" she asked Vega with a frown on her face.

"We'll let you know, I promise. I'll make sure the guys posted here keep in touch with me so I can pass the word along to you at your safe house" Vega said.

"What about my guardian, Ray Forrester? I haven't been able to get in touch with him. He doesn't even know what's going on; I can't just go without saying goodbye to him!" Harlan said, her voice slightly rising in volume.

"Don't worry about all that stuff, Miss Matheson. We'll take care of all that, I promise. We need to take your guardian into protective custody as well, remember?" Vega reminded her.

Vega handed out his card to each of the men and proceeded to walk down the hall, giving her space to say her goodbyes.

"Randy, I expect you to heal up and show me the RKO Peyton's always rambling about, okay?" she asked him, winking at him. He stared at her for a second, almost like he was trying to etch this moment into his memory. Blinking finally, he nodded his head at her and gave her a slow smile.

She turned and faced Punk and Dean. She bit her lip at the awkwardness of the situation; she almost felt like there was more rivalry between those two than with Randy.

Punk was the first to step towards her as Dean shrugged and walked away from the group. She watched as Dean stood with his back against the wall, his head bowed as he stared at the floor.

Punk cleared his throat, drawing Harlan's attention back towards him. He ran his hands down the tops of her arms in a soothing motion.

"This fucking sucks, doesn't it?" Punk said, not so eloquently.

Harlan couldn't help but laugh at the comical bluntness.

"Seriously though, come back to us, okay? I know it's not under your control, but... Be careful. You need to come back to us" Punk said seriously, his olive eyes softening.

Touched, Harlan gave in and wrapped her arms around him in a brief hug. She tried to pull away quickly, but his arms gave her one last squeeze before he let her go. As they pulled apart, he swiftly planted a kiss on her cheek. Her eyes widened in surprise as she stepped back from him, hand on her cheek.

"Go on. Get out of here, kiddo" he said, grinning at her mischievously.

Bewildered, she turned with her hand still on her cheek. As she slowly approached Dean, her heart beat kicked up, and her hand floated down from her cheek.

"Hey..." she said nervously as she stood in front of Dean.

Dean raised his head; the seriousness on his face made her ever more nervous. With his hands shoved in his pockets, he nodded at her.

"You going to be okay?" he asked her.

Shrugging, she smiled at him; a soft and poignant smile. Her gray eyes hadn't lost the haunted look he saw earlier, "I have to be..."

"You're allowed to have a moment, you know? It doesn't make you any less of a strong person" he said, unblinking.

Biting her lip, she tried to keep herself in check, but he saw the fleeting wave of sadness on her face.

He felt something in him shift and he pushed himself off the wall. Standing mere inches from her, his hands came up and held her face. Without her even realizing it, Harlan's arms wrapped themselves around Dean's waist in an embrace; mirroring the scene they'd created before Vega had arrived.

"I don't know your story, but you're going to get your ass back to me and you're going to let me in on it, you got that?" he said, his gentle tone softening the harsh words.

Harlan's heart skipped a beat and a lump formed in her throat. Nodding at him, she briefly closed her eyes to keep herself from falling apart right then and there. She felt Dean shift as he leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

Releasing her, he gave her a soft push towards Vega. As she turned to walk away, she felt a quick slap on her ass. Rubbing the sting away, she turned to look behind her, a look of complete shock on her face.

"Don't forget your promise" Dean said winking at her, a smirk on his face.

She rolled her eyes, but inside a wave of relief coursed through her. Against her usual logic and practicality, she felt a small ray of hope take root inside of her. Shaking her head, she tried to harden herself against it.

_I don't know what this is... Nothing is ever this good, is it? Can it be this simple? No. No way._

Reaching Vega, he placed a hand on her back and guided her out through the waiting room doors. Just like that, the three men were left behind to wonder if they'd made the right choice.

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_**A/N: Phew! I decided to post this to tide you guys over while I'm at work tonight. It was supposed to go on longer than this, but I ran out of time. I've gotta run and make myself somewhat pretty for my shift, hah! Hope you all enjoy it! OH and reminder for any non-wrestling fans (I have some friends reading this who have yet to indulge in the wrestling world; shame on you): Mr. Good is Dean because that's his real name, yo. See you at the next update! ;)**_


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